


Diagonally Parked in a Parallel Universe

by TheBlackLagoon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, F/M, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Men of Letters Dean, Minor Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, annoyances to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29793219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackLagoon/pseuds/TheBlackLagoon
Summary: Cas Novak can’t see an escape from the life of hunting. Even with the frequent pleas from Jessica to leave it all behind, where in the world is he supposed to fit in? Dean Winchester can’t see a life beyond pencil-pushing for the Men of Letter’s Midwest branch. Even with the responsibility he holds to upkeep his family name, is it really what he’s meant to do? The two duos meet on what appears to be an easy salt and burn but which quickly spirals out of control.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 15
Kudos: 55
Collections: Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jayjayverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayjayverse/gifts).



> First and foremost a big thank you to the mods who keep this bang running. It’s the first time I’ve participated and I’ve only got good things to say about the experience.
> 
> Now, this has to be one of the most fun things I’ve written in the last year. [Jayjayverse’s](https://jayjayverse.tumblr.com/) art immediately caught my eye and I was flooded with ideas for this fic. I loved working on it, and I loved collaborating with jayjayverse even more, and I sincerely hope all of you readers enjoy it half as much as I did writing it. Make sure to go check out jayjayverse’s [art](https://jayjayverse.tumblr.com/post/645115516658368513/art-contribution-to-the-deancas-reverse-bang) on tumblr to give it love there as well ;)
> 
> And lastly, thanks so much to my beta reader [raths_kitten](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29793219/chapters/73294449). I’m aware of how rough my rough draft was and I’m incredibly grateful to have had your help in smoothing out all the creases.

****

**(✵Cas✵)**

The inside of Elm Ridge Funeral home is unexceptional, to say the least. Far too normal, Cas thinks, for a place that deals with death just about as often as he does. There's off-color carpet, floral wallpaper, and fancy looking lamps painted to look gold. It's supposed to appear comfortable, he supposes, like an older relative's house, but the smell of disinfectant quashes any feeling of coziness that might arise otherwise. His flashlight catches sight of an open office door, and he drops the beam quickly to the floor, keeping his steps light as he presses his back tight to the wall. There is no noise but the sound of his breath, steady and hopefully only audible to his own ears. He waits, pulse thrumming through him.

Nothing- just a door ajar. Slowly, carefully, he begins his search again, the viewing room already behind him, with a hauntingly empty casket left to sit. No blood, but these ghouls have been surprisingly neat.

He's been here fifteen minutes already, and the quiet, the still of the building, is becoming increasingly tenser. There's just the room at the end of the hall to check, which, as he knows from his previous tour during the day, is the embalming room. The drains and tile make for easy clean up he's sure. 

Knowing the flashlight will make him more obvious he flicks it off, leaving him the barely there moonlight filtering in through the windows, curtained in overly pretty fabrics. The dissonance of his surroundings, with the natural fear drumming its way through his body, is enough for him to lose his focus just slightly.

They'd taken one ghoul out already tonight, caught her red-handed over the graves, the next would not be so easy after the loss of his partner. But all Cas had to do is follow the plan and then-

The sound of something metal clags in the room down the hall, and Cas doesn't think, just sprints the rest of the way, machete drawn, as he bursts through into the embalming room. The ghoul, mouth bloody, bares its teeth at him in surprise; the body of the funeral home owner, Greggory Carson, torn open at his feet. Cas had had his suspicions that's who the ghoul had chosen as its visage, but the fact that he'd spoken to the man- the _thing_ , just hours before sends a shiver down his spine. 

The ghoul doesn't give him time to mourn the life unsaved, as it jumps at him through the dark. Cas thankfully has always been light on his feet and shifts out of the way, leaving the ghoul to crash into the wall. The lights flash on as the ghoul stumbles against the lightswitch, and they both squint in the anesthetic, hospital-like brightness, white tiles reflecting the lights. Cas notices now the funeral director is not the only body in the room, and he gazes, panicked at the two stacked at the other end on observation tables. Neither of them, however, are fresh- dug up corpses for the desperate ghouls.

"We were doing good work here, before you and your partner meddled in everything," the ghoul spits, the face of Greggory Carson twisting in a gruesome rage. It levels itself against the wall, watching Cas's blade with unconcealed fear, but neither of them makes a move, waiting for signs of weakness.

"I'm sure the Carsons would argue that- as well as the 3 other funeral home directors you've eaten,” Cas says cooly, shifting the machete in his hand, to grip it tighter as they begin to shift around each other, coiled and ready for the fight. 

"She's dead isn't she, you wouldn't have made it here if she wasn’t." Cas doesn't say anything, just waits and keeps his focus open for the sounds of approaching footsteps, waiting for-

The ghoul jumps him then, in either a show of extreme bravery or else extreme malice, taking Cas off guard. They go down hard, and Cas's head hits the tile floor with a sickening crack, a sound that unsettles even him.

The pain that blooms from the impact spot makes him gasp involuntarily, dazing him for long enough to let the ghoul really get a hold of him. It's fingers slick with already spilled blood grasp at his neck, tightening until all that Cas can do is struggle hopelessly for breath. He should be panicking now, should be trying everything in his power to get away but he can hear the sounds of heavy boots on the tile floor, and the ghoul is distracted while-

The sound of metal rearing through flesh accompanies Cas's newfound ability to breathe, as the Ghouls' head tumbles onto the ground. Cas pushes the decapitated corpse off him quickly, as blood pools over his shirt. He glances up, still trying to recover his breath, at his partner Jessica Moore.

"Cutting it kinda close there Cas," she says face pinched and speckled with red, but the relief that washes through him at the sight of her has his head fall back with a sigh. He lets his eyes close as he replies.

“I thought you were supposed to be my backup?” Jess lets out a harsh laugh as she wipes the machete’s blade against her already dirtied jeans, and then sheaths it in one clean move.

“And here I am, backing you up,” she says with a grin, holding out a bloody hand to him and he takes it with a sigh. He grimaces at the gore splattered on his shirt, knowing some of it is on his face as well.

“If you could just manage it a little sooner next time,” he says with a groan, touching the back of his skull tenderly. He feels a wave of nausea roll through him as he stands, his head starting to ache furiously now that his adrenaline is beginning to wean. 

“Next time don’t have us split up- it’s never a good idea,” Jess says, her expression shifting into slightly more concerned, moving in with her flashlight to check his pupils’ dilation. Cas lets her lift his right eyelid, steadying himself on the wall as he tries not to reflexively squint into the light.

“It was a strategic maneuver that I thought would work to get him out in the open.”

“Well, I hope the concussion was worth it,” she says with an obvious eye roll, as she wraps her arm under his, taking the weight off his shaking legs.

“It did work though,” he says, slightly taciturn, but the sharp look that gets him shuts him up for the rest of the walk out to the parking lot. The Lincoln Continental, gleaming in the moonlight, looks just as garish as the day Stephen Moore had brought it home, and still somehow it’s a welcoming sight. 

“Give me the keys,” Jess says, holding out her hand impatiently as Cas slips from her arm to lean against the car.

“I can drive,” he says, but the commanding effect he’d meant to place on the words fall flat, as a wave of pain hits him hard enough to make the world tilt. Jess looks unimpressed, to say the least. 

“Let me reiterate, you have a concussion, give me the keys.”

“Sound logic,” Cas says with a sigh, as he digs into his jacket pocket, tossing them to her as he slinks round to the passenger side door. 

The first half of the drive back to the motel is oddly tense. Even through his now raging headache, Cas can tell from years of experience that Jess is on the edge of something. This means he's not surprised when she says low and serious-

"You can't keep doing this."

"I don't know what you mean," he sighs, pressing his forehead to the cool glass of the window, unwilling to look at her, to see the worry and disappointment that surely mar her features.

"That's bullshit and you know it- this was just like the werewolf case in San Antonio, and the poltergeist in Bedford and God, I don't know how many before. What happened to dad wasn't your fault, and if you don’t stop treating each hunt like some- punishment for it I- I don't know what I'm going to do," she breaks off, her voice harsh with disappointment.

"We live a dangerous life Jess, if I die, you move on," he snaps, ignoring the pain it causes him to twist in his seat. Her hand is gripping the wheel so tightly now, her knuckles are white, and he almost wants to ask her to pull over- but that would mean being stuck in the car for even longer. 

"We could get out, you know. There's nothing keeping us from just- stopping," Jess says, her voice lower, nearly a whisper now, as she stares ahead at the darkened road. Cas swallows, sinking back into his seat with a frown.

"You tried that once, it didn't work," he says slowly, but Jess just shakes her head in frustration.

"Yeah, because I did it alone, but if we had each other, we could just- we could-" Jess stops, her desperation to grasp at a solution obvious. Cas lets the silence sit, lets it answer for him as tears prick at the corner of her eyes. The car rumbles along, filling in the gaps of stilled atmosphere between them, until at last, the neon sign of the motel appears, and they park.

Neither of them moves to get out.

"I don't think I can find peace, Jess. I don't think I'm built for that," Cas says finally, quiet and somber as he brings a hand up to his blood-soaked shirt, gripping the grimy fabric between his fingers. 

"So what- you want me to just sit back and let you throw yourself into danger? We're supposed to be helping people, not using it as some glorified suicide attempt," Jess snaps, her eyes facing forward as a tear escapes down her face, all cast in the blue glow of the vacancy sign outside.

"Jess I don't-"

"You know what, I just- I need a shower and about six hours of sleep before I can deal with you," Jess’s voice comes out sharp and final, as she twists the keys from the ignition, and exits the car, her anger so permeable it lingers in the car even as she stalks towards their motel room door. 

Cas doesn't move to follow her just yet, lets himself sit with the pain of his injuries. If he was completely honest with himself, he knew what Jessica was saying was right. After Stephen’s death he'd- well, he'd lost his way. Just another father, surrogate or otherwise, lost to this life. But he'd never meant to cause Jess pain, to put himself more at risk with every hunt but- he supposes he stopped caring a while ago if he made it out, one way or another. 

But what he'd said before was true as well, or as true to him as anything. He knew he was not meant for peace.

Eventually, after ruminating in his own thoughts for a good twenty minutes, he extracts himself from the Lincoln. Jess is already curled up in bed, her back turned to the door, and she doesn't so much as flinch when he steps inside.

He doesn't try to rouse her, knowing they've reached their limit for the day. She wouldn't take even the sincerest of apologies right now without complaint. So he heads for the shower, strips from his ruined clothes, and watches his failures of the night wash down the drain.

He doesn’t track the time he spends under the spray, but when he finally exits the shower, his fingers have pruned, and the ache in his muscles has diminished somewhat with the hot water. He grabs his clothes from his duffel, along with his phone and a bottle of ibuprofen, quickly keeping an eye on Jess, her breathing regular enough to mean she is truly asleep at this point. 

Back in the bathroom, he changes into a threadbare t-shirt and sweats, reveling for a moment in the semi-clean of them before reality comes crashing back down on him. There are bruises blossoming around his throat, finger prints left by the ghoul. He uncaps the ibuprofen bottle, the back of his skull still pulsing in pain, and swallows down two of the pills, scooping water into his mouth from the sink. It leaves a metallic taste in his mouth that he cringes at, as he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. With a sigh, he grabs for his phone, turning away from the mirror to lean awkwardly on the sink. 

He’d really only meant to set an alarm for the next day, but when he notices the icon of two missed calls from Garth, he doesn't think before pressing redial. He steps away from the bathroom door as the phone rings out, echoing slightly in the tiled room. 

Finally, at the sixth ring, the line clicks.

“Castiel! Good to hear from you at- 2 in the morning,” Garth’s voice, scratchy with sleep jumps through the phone speakers and Cas cringes slightly. He hadn’t even considered the time of night.

“Garth I- hope I didn’t wake you,” Cas replies tentatively, running a hand through damp strands of his hair. 

“No, no- well, _you did_ , but it’s no problem Cas, really! I did call first buddy,” Garth says cheerfully, and Cas genuinely can’t tell if it’s forced or not. 

“Yes, well- I thought you might have another case for us? We’re finished with the ghouls here, and I don’t believe we plan on sticking around much longer,” Cas says, breathing out a quiet sigh.

“Well, it’s not definitive but, there may be a haunting in Kansas. It _is_ a couple of states away from you, but all my other connections are tied up at the moment,” Garth says, and Castiel pauses for a second, just a second before replying.

“We can handle the drive, where in Kansas?”

“Little town called Good Intent. I like the sound of it. It seems cozy.” Castiel can hear the smile in Garth’s voice as he speaks, the only person he knows who could call a hunt _cozy_ of all things and sound sincere.

“I’m sure,” Castiel says through a huff of laughter.

“I’ll send you the rest of the details- _tomorrow_ _morning_ ,” Garth tacks on quickly at the end, and Castiel smiles slightly, hearing the definitive signal to end the call.

“Thank you Garth, I’ll check in again with you- _tomorrow_.”

They say their customary goodbyes, and then Cas hangs up, and goes to set his alarm for six. 

**⛥⛧⛥**

Jess doesn’t wake with the alarm, her head buried beneath her pillow, and Cas doesn’t rush to get her moving. He slips out of the motel room once he’s changed, and heads for the nearest place serving coffee, which happens to be a small diner two blocks away. He orders two to go, one black with two sugars for Jess, and another with cream and three sugars for him. 

When he does return to the room, Jess is up, perched on the edge of the bed, blinking awake slowly. She takes the coffee without comment, nodding her head to him in silent thanks. 

He begins packing then, gathering the few items scattered around their room and stuffing them into his duffle bag. Jess watches him quietly for a few moments, bringing her legs up into a crisscrossed position on the bed. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Packing.” He doesn’t look over at her as he folds the bloodied shirt from the night before and tucks it beneath the rest of his clothes. 

“I can see that. Why are you packing?” Jess pushes, and Cas pauses, hands hovering over his bag, wary of the possible confrontation this might stir up.

“Garth called last night, there’s a possible haunting case in Kansas for us,” he finally manages to say, turning back around to look at Jess head on. Her lips purse for a moment, blue eyes turning flinty. He thinks for a second she’ll say something, bring up the conversation from the night before, but she doesn’t. She just turns away from him taking another sip of her coffee. 

“Right, okay.”

She goes to change after that, leaving him to get their room in order on his own. Of course, there’s never much to pack away anyway, living out of their duffels like they do. 

When Jess gets back out, he tosses her her packed bag and she catches it easily. They stand apart for a moment, their bags slung over their shoulders, bodies tense with unsaid words. Cas breaks first.

“I’m sorry.” It comes out softer than he’d meant it to, too fragile for the atmosphere between them, but Jess’s features soften. She adjusts the handle of her duffel, eyes averted as she collects her thoughts, before she answers.

“You’re all I have left Cas,” she pauses, sucking in a steadying breath, dropping her head as she runs a hand through her hair. “I’m just asking that you think a little harder about putting yourself at risk.”

“I know and I- I’ll try,” he says, and he thinks he means it. He hopes for Jess’s sake he means it. 

“I’ll check us out if you start the car,” she says carefully, and he nods, handing over their room key as she passes by him. 

The parking lot is still semi dark, the rising sun just peeking over the horizon. There’s a damp chill in the air, as Cas goes to start the car, and he turns the heating on as high as the old car will allow. He sits for a moment, letting the rumble of the engine wash over him until finally, he steps back out to put his own bag in the trunk.

Jess gets back seconds later and moves in past him to lay down her own duffel. 

“I think I’m actually looking forward to this hunt- after these ghouls, a salt and burn sounds like a vacation,” she says, as she tosses her duffel bag into the trunk of the Lincoln, and pulling out the handgun she’d hidden behind her jacket out, checking it over as she walks closer. 

“Yes, well, last night-” Cas pauses to rub at the still tender spot at the base of his skull, “That could have been better.”

“It’s a good thing you have a hard head,” she says, knocking the bruised skin with the gun gripped tightly in her hand, as she passes him. He takes a breath, doing his best to not give her the benefit of seeing him wince, as he opens the driver’s side door and slips into the car. 

Still not completely forgiven, he sees.


	2. Chapter 2

**(✵Cas✵)**

They have to make a pit stop in Missouri about two hours in. It takes awhile but they finally find a Copy Jack where Garth faxes over all he has on the case of Daniel Bell. 

32 years old, born and raised in Good Intent Kansas, and found dead on an early morning in March. The released police report states accidental death, a broken neck from a tumble down the stairs. Cas reads this information out to Jess at a gas station, over two new cups of coffee. 

"That doesn't sound like a case," Jess remarks slowly, frowning slightly down into her steaming cup. There's a chill wind blowing through, and it whips their hair around as they wait for the Lincoln's tank to fill. Most days, Cas would agree, a fall down the stairs wasn't unusual in the slightest, but Garth had pulled through on this.

"Garth has a friend from the Lancaster county morgue, a couple of towns over from Good Intent. Apparently the place is small enough they outsource for this type of situation. The unreleased police report says they found Bell's body a good twenty feet from the stairs, and the break was so clean it almost looked like physical force was used."

"Okay, that does sound a little more plausible. So I guess the first thing of business is to check out the house. Did Garth get us a number for his contact?" Jess asks, nodding along to Cas's explanation. 

"Yeah, Moreen Newgent. We can make it to the house today, but I think if there's anything Garth failed to mention we should go see her tomorrow," Cas intones, watching as the meter finally falls still, and he pulls the pump from the tank. Jess grabs the bundle of papers from where Cas had laid them out in clear view, shuffling through the photocopied newspaper articles, and stolen police report.

"This place is in the middle of nowhere, who knows if the neighbors will be any help," Jess says with a sigh, motioning to the grainy photo of Bell’s house, but Cas just shakes his head. They both slide back into the car, as Cas replies.

"They could be useful character witnesses. If anything unusual was going on around him or the house before his death the neighbors will know- small towns talk." 

"Yeah, yeah, use every available resource,” Jess says rolling her eyes, as she continues to scan the pages. “It’s a nice place though, big spacious farmhouse. Really it’s too bad it’s probably haunted.”

"If you like it so much, call the realtor," Cas says with a smirk, tossing his phone over to her where the number is already pulled up before he pulls the Lincoln back out onto the road. Jess grabs the phone easily but gives him a raised eyebrow of confusion.

"It can't already be up on the market- the guy only died a week and a half ago," she says with a frown, looking down at the number with slight disgust.

"Wasn't murder as far as anyone can tell- apparently accidental death sells better," Cas says with a shrug, and Jess gives a slight groan at the morbidity of it. She presses dial anyway, giving Cas a look as a recorded voice begins denoting directions.

"Do we want the realtor there with us?" Jess asks, in a whisper, and Cas nods.

"They usually have the house plans, and if we push she might know some history about the place- does a bit of our job for us."

"Well I'm not pretending to be your wife-  _ Hello there _ ," Jess's voice immediately slides into a bubbly exuberance, that has Cas containing laughter. He does his best not to distract her though as she goes over the details with the realtor, a woman named Shelly Hewitt, and their plans to meet at 2. It goes quickly enough, Jess has always been the better of the two at putting on a friendly front, and when the call is through, everything has been set. 

"So if you're not my wife, what are we doing buying a house together?" Cas asks once Jess slumps back into her seat with a sigh, Cas's phone tossed back into his lap. 

"Old college friends. We both wanted a house but didn't have the money alone, and it's better than sharing an apartment together," Jess says with a shrug, and Cas nods thoughtfully.

"What did I study?" Cas asks cheekily, and Jess side eyes him before answering.

"English major- obviously."

"I don't know whether to be offended or not," he says and Jess cracks a smile then, before turning to look at him, a too earnest look in her eyes.

"You would have liked college Cas.”

“I- I’m sure I would have,” Cas falters, feeling at a loss.

“I wish you'd left with me," she says, voice less distant this time, not too lost in nostalgia yet, and Cas tenses immediately, fearing a repeat of the night's previous argument.

"I couldn't, Stephen needed-"

"My dad didn't need anyone Cas," Jess snaps, and his mouth shutters closed. The silence sits uncomfortably around them, flat land, and miles and miles of field stretch out around them. The sky is an over-saturated blue, cloudless, and infinite. Finally, she shakes her head, mouth pressed thin.

"I'm sorry I don't know why I- I've just been thinking about it a lot lately. I know dad appreciated what you did for him Cas. I know that," Jess says quietly, picking at the frayed holes in her jeans. Cas takes a breath, and thinks there is too much to say to that. Of course Stephen hadn’t needed him, but Cas  _ had- _ because what did he know about life outside of hunting? It’s what he’d been raised for and if he doesn’t have it,  _ what is he good for? _

But he doesn’t say any of that, just grabs Jess’s hand sitting between them and squeezes comfortingly. They spend the rest of the drive quiet, with the soft hum of the radio filling in the gaps of unspoken thoughts. 

**⛥⛧⛥**

It's nearly six by the time they make it to the house, the sun low and hot over the sky, casting the whole landscape into a golden glow. They'd stopped once more for gas, but even still Cas is relieved to step from the vehicle, back aching from being hunched over the wheel all day. The air is crisp and cool, but not as uncomfortably cold as that morning, and the canvas jacket and flannel Cas has on is enough to make it feel refreshing. He takes in a deep breath as he steps from the car, the scent of soil and growth hitting him hard, something oddly heady and pleasurable in it as well. 

The house is surrounded by fields, already harvested before the winter had come, but filled with freshly sprouting greenery. He spies a small orchard in the backyard, where flowers are blooming early in mass. The whole idyllic scene sets something entirely peaceful alight inside of him, and he turns to Jess with an odd sort of half-smile. She's exited the car by now, stretching off to the side, but she seems nearly as affected as he is, a soft look overcoming her features. He shakes his head slowly, trying to focus back up and walks around to the other side of the Lincoln to join her.

"When did Shelly say she'd be here?" he asks casually, allowing his eyes to stray to the beautiful two-story farmhouse, painted a soft robin's egg blue, with white trim. Jess sighs as she rolls her neck out, but replies swiftly.

"Any minute now, I texted her our ETA about twenty minutes ago," Jess says, slipping her phone from her back pocket to wave it at him. He nods leaning back against the car. They'll be able to see her coming from a mile away at least, and Cas considers starting the tour himself if Jess were willing to be a look out. Instead he lets himself pause, and continues to take in the landscape.

Jess nudges him finally, drawing his eyes away from the gleaming weathervane at the top of the house, a rooster with its head thrown elegantly back, and wings spread wide. He doesn't have long to be fascinated by it though as the point of Jess's interruption becomes more obvious. At the end of the dirt road, a metallic green Prius appears, quickly rumbling to a stop next to the much more dated Lincoln. 

The woman who steps out of the car to greet them is more polished than any small town realtor has a right to be. She's got shoulder length blond hair, a perfect honey color that catches the light beautifully, and her suit, obviously freshly pressed, fits well enough to have been tailored to her. As soon as she catches sight of them she smiles brightly, toothy and almost unnaturally white, and Castiel's new found calm shifts onto unsteady ground.

"You must be Ms. Clarkson- and this is-?” She turns to Castiel with a raised brow, and he mistakenly holds his hand for her to shake as he replies.

"Cas Turner." 

"The college friend then, a pleasure, Mr. Turner, lovely that you two decided to go in on this house together," Shelly's grip is tight, and while Cas can't pinpoint exactly what about it he finds off, it unsettles him nonetheless.

"Well, we'll see how the tour goes," Cas says a little too flat for Jess apparently, as she elbows him in the side unobviously. Shelly lets out a high titter, and releases his hand to motion them towards the house.

"I'm sure after seeing the inside you'll be singing a different tune, Mr. Turner."

"I'm sure he will, thank you again for this on such short notice Ms. Hewitt, we've just been so desperate to find a place as affordable as this," Jess gushes, overcompensating for Cas's previous blunder, and Shelly seems completely taken in by it as she unlocks the front door with a grin for them, and ushers them into the house.

It’s all bare interior now, a hollow imitation of a place that used to be someone’s home. Shelly flicks the lights on, and the emptiness of the place grows, as the high ceilings and dark corners are shown in complete clarity. 

“Where would you two like to begin?” She asks, smile still all teeth, and still all too wide for it not to put Cas on edge, but Jess steps up first.

“Upstairs sounds like a good start.”

Shelly is thorough to say the least, as she shows them through the house. Each nook and cranny is described with the utmost exuberance, embellished in a way only the best of realtors knows how to do. She barely gives time for Jess and him to sneak in the odd question.

“What about the electrical system, any problems there we’d need to fix? Like flickering lights?” Jess asks casually as they finish up with the last of the rooms upstairs at last. Cas is just a room behind them surreptitiously seeping the room with the EMF detector, and he peeks his head out to listen. Shelly stops for a moment, a thoughtful look crossing her face before shaking her head.

“No, I believe there was work done on the house as recent as last year. The last owner took great care with this place,” Shelly says, placing her hand on the landing’s bannister, about ready to lead them back down the stairs. Cas eyes the steps worriedly for a moment, face still a neutral mask, before jumping in with his own question, hiding the detector behind his back.

“And why is the last owner selling, was the upkeep too much?” Jess doesn’t so much as elbow him this time, but he can feel the hot glare she sends his way just as starkly. Shelly fumbles for a moment, a couple steps down the stairs already.

“Well- there was an unfortunate- accident. I’m sure you’ll read about it in the local news anyway but, it was a fluke fall down the steps. Daniel Bell lived alone, and there are plenty of risks associated with that, that you two don’t have to worry about,” Shelly says brusquely, waving a hand nervously, her bubbly veneer dropping for a wavering second. 

“We’re- sorry to hear that. Did you know him?” Jess asks, slightly stilted as they all look down the steps, but Shelly shakes her head quickly.

“Oh, no- I of course knew about this house, but before Mr. Bell refurbished, there really wasn’t anything worth selling.”

“And the owners before him?” Cas pushes, but Shelly seems less put off this time, just shrugs and turns away from him as she grips the bannister railing and begins her descent once more.

“Before my time- it was empty for years.” 

Cas sends a knowing look Jess’s way, a complete understanding that some deep library dives were going to be needed if they wanted real answers. It was one of Cas’s least favorite jobs on a hunt.

“Well, I would just love to see the rest of the house,” Jess says abruptly, bringing them all up and out the haze of the death of Daniel Bell. Shelly smiles a tad on the grateful side, before making a sweeping gesture down the steps.

“If we just head down stairs, I can show you all the wonderful amenities the kitchen has,” Shelly says, her smile back in place as she turns away from Cas, her voice going up an octave or so with her feigned exuberance.

Cas branches off from them at the kitchen, letting Jess guide the conversation with Shelly, apparently all too okay with him backing off. Besides the living area, and the kitchen, there’s one last hallway of rooms to check over. 

The first two rooms are nothing but bare; a spare bedroom, and an office, floors swept clean, walls newly painted. All well kept. With a sigh he shuts the office door with a quiet click, about ready to head back to Jess, end this tour and get somewhere else to plan their next moves. That is, until something out of the corner of his catches his attention.

There’s a door, painted a dark blue, not quite navy, almost richer than that, sitting at the end of the hall. He’s not sure why it hadn’t caught his attention before, but it’s undeniably there now. Cas can still hear Shelly’s voice from the kitchen, the hum of Jess’s response, but this door, with blue paint, and a shimmering bronze door knob, has the majority of his attention. He glances down at the device in his palm to see that the EMF detector is beeping steadily now, something on the other side is making its meter spike. 

After all the years of honing his instincts, this undeniable urge to step towards the door should be setting off alarm bell after alarm bell but- it feels right, deep down each step feels right.

His fingers barely graze the handle when it hits him. 

It’s a dizzying wave of pain that has him rocking back on his feet to clutch at his head. He gasps, falls back into the wall hard enough to have the voices down the hall hesitate for a moment. But he can’t focus correctly, can’t see for the star bursts of white maring his vision. He stumbles farther back on instinct, and the pain eases enough that Cas is able to regain some sense. 

He stumbles into the kitchen gripping his head and the conversation between Jess and Shelly dies immediately. In any other situation, Cas would despise being seen in any weakened capacity by a person he barely knows, but the still receding pain doesn’t allow for any embarrassment. 

“Cas?” Jess asks, her bubbly mask slipping just a bit as she watches him try and straighten his posture. 

“I- it’s a migraine, I just need some air,” he says tightly, giving a sharp nod to Shelly, who’s watching him with ill concealed concern. He passes them for the side entrance, and neither of them try to stop him as he rushes out into the side yard. A cool shade greets him, and he breathes a sigh of relief as the pain dwindles to a manageable degree. No more than the normal pangs of a stress headache.

He doesn’t know how long he stands out there, in view of the backyard orchard, breathing in the sweet scent of apple blossoms before Jess finally comes and finds him. 

“ _ Cas _ ,” her voice isn’t quite soft, just hesitant, and he turns to her, seeing her half out the side door. He tries his best to give her a look that conveys he’s better now, but her face is still pinched in concern. 

“Shelly’s leaving, I told her we had a couple more places to check out before we settle- what happened back there?” She asks, motioning back behind her, and Cas turns away, running a hand through his hair.

“I-” Cas pauses, not sure how to explain what had occurred without causing Jess any unneeded panic. “I think my concussion may have been worse than I initially thought,” he finishes, his voice shaking slightly, and he winces at the sound of it. 

“Jesus Cas, you scared me,” Jess says a little more harshly, pushing his arm in annoyance and Cas frowns slightly, down at the emerald green grass curling round his shoes.

“There is something in there though. The EMF detector went crazy on the lower floor,” Cas says, rubbing at his still aching temple. Jess is quiet for a moment as she watches the house, silent and foreboding in the now darkened evening, but then she places a firm hand on Cas’s shoulder, steady and real before she replies.

“It looks like we have a job to do then.”


	3. Chapter 3

**(✵Cas✵)**

Jess refuses to let him accompany her to the morgue the next day. Backed up by the fact she threatens to pull her gun on him if he so much as tries to win back the Lincoln’s keys from her. 

"I don't see why I shouldn't drive along with you," he tries one last time as Jess adjusts her pencil skirt on her way out the door. She sends him a look that clearly means she won't be argued with but it just makes him more annoyed at the situation.

"It's a one-person job Cas, I'm just double-checking with the morgue- Your lore research will probably uncover more than this," she says with a shrug, hand already on the doorknob, and Cas knows he’s lost.

"If it's so easy, then I should make the drive and you can-"

" _ Castiel- _ you're still suffering from a concussion. Or did you happen to forget what happened at the house yesterday? Take a breather okay?" she asks pointedly, and Cas takes a breath before nodding his assent. Jess's lips purse for just a moment, before sliding into a small smile, and then she's waving her goodbye, leaving Cas to his work. 

It's not that Cas is bad at research. He knows how to sit through hours of dense text, has learned Latin specifically for the purpose of making translations go a little smoother, but he's never liked feeling idle. Sitting for hours at Jess's laptop, reading over the meager history of Good Intent, feels like he's wasting time that should be spent elsewhere. 

He's had this debate with himself plenty of times. Every good hunter knows that research is key to not getting yourself killed. A good hunter comes prepared with knowledge. If only Castiel's logical side could win out over his emotional side.

After he reaches the two hours mark, Cas lets himself have a break. Having read through half a dozen different articles about local harvest festivals, and county fairs, it's starting to become obvious there's not much else in the column of noteworthy news. He grabs his wallet and heads out of the room for the vending machines, knowing full well the diner, which is a good three miles west of the motel, isn't an option for lunch with the loss of the Lincoln to Jess. 

There are paltry choices left to him as he stands contemplating the machine. One brand of chips, pork rinds, and several different candy bars are what it has to offer, and after a certain amount of deliberation, he gets himself one of each. It's as he's watching the Big Kat bar push forward slowly on its spinning metal coil that Cas feels it again.

The pain isn't quite as jarring this time, and he thinks for a moment maybe it is just his concussion that's bothering him. He shuts his eyes as the back of his skull throbs painfully once, twice. At the third wave of pain, Cas feels himself stumble, catching himself on the vending machine, as an image flashes across his darkened eyelids. At first, he thinks it's just light, a blinding flash, but as the pain grows and Cas comes down to his knees a form takes shape from the light. It is falling, falling from a sea of stars. Separating, tearing itself from the heavenly body. It has luminous wings and scintillant spirals and it is beautiful and-

Cas opens his eyes to see the Big Kat bar fall into the dispensary, his breathing ragged, and his knees aching from the fall onto the concrete. There is sweat at his temple, and as quickly as he can, he rises on shaky legs. He has to use the vending machine for support, feeling queasy and light headed. The headache is all but nonexistent again, but the repercussions of the attack have left him on unsteady feet. He supposes he can only be grateful that the motel parking lot is miraculously empty of any other patrons.

He stumbles back to the room, trying to keep his breathing steady, the images- no, the vision he’d seen still repeating every time he closes his eyes. It’s incomprehensible, and yet somehow Cas feels whatever he’s seeing is incredibly important. Before he knows it, he’s back within the motel room, standing in front of the twin beds, his hands shaking and pulse skipping. He realizes vaguely that he’d forgotten to get his snacks from the vending machine, when another surge of nausea has him rushing to the bathroom. 

What little he'd had in his stomach is flushed down the drain minutes later, and Cas places his forehead to chill on the porcelain surface. He doesn't know how long he sits there on the dirtied bathroom floor, just trying to come back to himself, to stop from seeing the image of that falling star superimposed over everything else. There is something wrong with him, and it scares him- this loss of control scares him more than any other monster he's been forced to face. 

And if Jess ever found out-

This thought brings reality crashing back down on him. Jess can't know, she spends too much time worried about him anyway, and if he's really in some form of danger, if these visions are a symptom of something larger-

He's up again in about ten minutes, splashing water in his face, and combing his hair back into some form of submission. When he looks himself over in the mirror he still looks like shit- dark smudges under his eyes, his skin a tad too pale, but nothing too different from how he's looked the past few months. He leaves the bathroom then, peels off a layer of sweat soaked flannel, and sets himself down in front of the laptop once again. 

He hasn’t found anything by the time Jess opens up the motel room door again. She gives him a weary smile as she tosses her keys onto the motel end table. He keeps his expression neutral as she flops down on her bed, tossing off her one scuffed pair of heels. He keeps his voice steady as he asks-

"How was it?"

"Mostly a whole lot of nothing. I have somewhat of a lead- Moreen was able to give me Bell's emergency contact, a girlfriend about twenty minutes from here. But besides that, she told me exactly what Garth sent over about the autopsy. At least she confirmed the spinal break was too clean to be from a fall," Jess says with a sigh, not even looking at Cas as she slides down the headboard into a slouched and relaxed position.

"Nothing from the local newspapers about the house- besides the recent obituary for Bell. I also looked through some small town forums, but if there are any urban legends about the place then we'll have to ask around in person," Cas says, and he watches as Jess takes in a deep breath and lets out a long sigh. She sits there for a moment before pushing herself back up pulling her hair from its tight ponytail, and running her fingers through it, massaging the tension from her scalp.

"We've still got the afternoon- we could try a couple of interviews around town?" Jess asks, looking as unenthused as Cas feels, but he nods his head anyway.

"The girlfriend sounds like a good place to start if you'll let me come along?” He asks, even as worry courses through him of another bout of painful visions. Jess rolls her eyes, unaware of the tension he holds.

"Yeah, okay fine. You did manage to stay out of trouble while I was gone so that deserves some sort of reward. I am driving though," she says, jokingly and then winces as she stuffs her feet back into her shoes, none too happily. He tries not to flinch at her words, and when she glances over at him he feigns it by pinching the bridge of his nose as if he’s been staring at his screen too long. 

"Whatever gets me out of here," Cas says with a sigh, pushing himself up from his seat to grab his suit from the rest of his things.

As Cas gets dressed, Jess retouches her hair, putting it back into its more formal-looking updo. The suit Cas has, the only suit he has, is a little loose on him, hanging wrong on his shoulders, and he hates the way it makes him look smaller. The vivid blue tie is the only part of the ensemble he's ever liked, and he straightens it self-consciously in the mirror. 

There's a knock on the door a moment before Jess pushes her way into the bathroom, mumbling an apology under her breath as she moves in to use the mirror beside him.

"I think we need to buy you a new suit," she says offhandedly, and Cas glares over at her, as she smooths down a flyaway hair.

"It's fine, I don't wear it often enough to waste money on another one," he says, and Jess gives him an odd look at the slightly sharp tone.

"It's not our money anyway, don't see why you couldn't splurge a little," she says with a shrug, turning her eyes back to the mirror, to straighten her blouse and skirt. With a sigh, Cas sidles past her to exit the bathroom, waiting by the door with the Lincoln keys held loose in his hands. Jess joins him soon after that, snatching the keys from his hand as she passes him, and he does his best not to pout like he's eight. 

As he’s locking the motel room behind them, and Jess is making her way to start the Lincoln, the loud roar of an engine startles them both into looking up. 

Besides the Lincoln, and the sentimental value it holds for him, Cas has never really got the appeal of cars. Most were just tools for him to use, just ugly metal skeletons that polluted the air. But the vehicle at the entrance of the motel parking lot is far from just any other car.

The black metal shines beautifully in the late afternoon light, long and sleek and for just a moment, Cas  _ gets _ what a good car really is. 

The Chevy Impala parks on the other side of the lot, near the front desk, and Cas pauses a moment, his hand still on the motel room door waiting to see who is going to exit that car.

"Cas, come on. Is the key stuck?" Jess's voice snaps him away from the car across the lot, and he blinks owlishly back at her. She holds out an arm palm up in bemusement and he shakes his head slightly.

"No, I- sorry," he says, eyes darting quickly over to the Impala, to see the backs of two figures disappearing behind the door of the front office. With a sigh, he stuffs their motel key into his pocket and slides into the Lincoln without another thought towards the two strangers and their beautiful car.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Two Days Earlier…_ **

**(✵Dean✵)**

When Dean's grandfather had called for an impromptu chapter meeting, he wasn't sure what he’d expected. Maybe a breakthrough from the Arcane ritual's department or another debrief on safety procedures for bringing in cursed items, but it had definitely not been  _ this _ .

" _ You're retiring? _ " His question hangs in the air as the people who raised him, who watched him grow, look back at him in mild surprise. Henry Winchester on the other hand, is unfazed.

"Yes, I'd say eighty-five is as good a time as any to retire Dean- but as I was saying, this means I'll need you to start taking on more responsibilities as I ease out of the position. There's still plenty to discuss with the other chapter heads, with you being installed as my predecessor, but it's all been fairly official for a while." Henry says, in that even but commanding tone he uses so effortlessly. 

Dean sits back in his seat, trying to hide the shock that's just rocked him to his core. Bobby isn't meeting his eyes, and his mother is shifting uncomfortably beside him. He keeps his eyes focused on the briefing notes before him, none of which mention this change over, and he can feel dread sinking heavy to the pit of his stomach.

His grandfather carries the meeting for far longer than Dean feels is necessary, after having dropped such a life changing revelation on his grandson, but Mrs. Tran has updates from her department, and then Bobby is asking for extra funds to be put towards some archival project. It all washes over him, as intelligible as TV static, and all he can do is breathe and try not to bolt as soon as the meeting is adjourned. 

His mother tries to stop him as he collects his haphazard notes and files from the table, but he mumbles something vague about getting some reports to Sam in the archives. 

Linda Tran does stop him outside the war room, a gentle hand on his elbow as she mentions how well he's going to do as the new head of the midwestern branch. He can barely muster a smile as she walks away before he's dropping his notes on a random table and booking it for the archives. He wasn't completely lying to his mother when he told her he was going to see Sam.

He's stopped several more times as he makes his way through the levels, and with each new congratulations, Dean can feel his stomach sink further and further. 

He hadn't known,  _ how had he not known? _ After all his mom had told him about maybe doing fieldwork within the next couple of years and now-

Generally, the Archives are as quiet and calm as a grave, Sam being the main haunt of the place, but when Dean pushes open the heavy wooden door, he's greeted with twin cheers of excitement. 

"Congratulations new team leader!" Charlie cries, jumping him from the left, her tiny frame wrapping him in a shockingly strong hug. He lets it happen, vaguely aware of the champagne bottle that's been popped and that's now resting behind Sam as he comes in to join. He stops halfway to Dean when he sees the expression on his face.

"Uh- Charlie," Sam coughs, and now sensing the true mood, she takes a sudden step back.

"How did- was I the only one who didn't know this was happening?" He asks bleakly, and both Charlie and Sam share looks of surprise.

"Dean- you've been working under grandad for over a year now..." Sam starts slowly.

“We thought you knew,” Charlie finishes, all traces of her earlier excitement vanished. Dean looks between the two of them and shakes his head while taking a seat heavily at one of the empty work spaces.

“It’s not like I didn’t- It’s all happening sooner than I thought it would be, I guess,” he says flatly, resting his elbows on his thighs as he runs a hand down his face. 

“Do you not-  _ want  _ the position?” Sam asks, looking baffled and out of the corner of his eye Dean can see Charlie elbow him in the side. 

Dean knows he looks like a moron right now, for not catching on to the piling up signs of his grandfather stepping down. He had been working to replace him for years, learning the ropes of how to manage an entire chapter of the Men of Letters. But he'd also spent years trying to convince his family that fieldwork was where his skills were needed. 

"I just, I thought by now I'd be taking over Dad's old position. I get that- I'm  _ needed _ here, but I can't act like I'm meant to be a leader to these people. I mean shouldn't Bobby or mom be ahead of me here?" Dean says mostly just rationalizing to himself but Sam's frown isn't exactly comforting. Charlie moves in to lean against the table he's sat down at and she places a hand on his shoulder.

"If this is you being all low self-esteem then you can cut it out Dean- I mean if I wanted anyone to run this place it would be you. You  _ know _ us, you know how we all work," she says encouragingly, shaking his shoulder for emphasis, as Sam nods along.

"Yeah and I mean, you know how resistant grandad's been to mom's pushes for more hunter integration, you can actually make a difference Dean," Sam adds in, with growing confidence. Dean takes a moment, holding Charlie's hand firm to his shoulder as he thinks.

"No, yeah, I- I get it, I get how important this is. And it's not me second-guessing myself, but I just feel like maybe there's more important work for me to be doing- or that maybe I missed out on something more," Dean finishes lamely, and Sam gives him an odd look of doubt. 

"So what- you want to give it up to go hunt? Dean, mom’s told us how bad the conditions can get out there. We know because it got dad killed," Sam says, not softly either, and Dean winces, but he shakes his head.

"I'm not saying I want to make a job of it, leave behind the Men of Letters completely, but I don't want to be stuck doing office work for the rest of my life either," Dean says, rising from his seat, leaving Charlie to jump back a bit in startled surprise. 

"Okay so don't- be more hands-on, you don't have to do everything the way grandad has, the man’s been the same since the sixties," Sam snaps, and Dean knows he's right logically, but he's already worked up now, rattled with nervous energy. Before he can send back a more biting remark to his brother, Charlie steps in, with a dawning look of inspiration.

"You know- there's nothing actually stopping you from trying out some fieldwork."

Both Sam and Dean turn to her with similar expressions of doubt.

"Mom wouldn't okay a mission for me even if I had the help of God on my side,” Dean says with an eye roll and Charlie just shushes him as she races over to her desktop workspace. She keeps talking as she begins to type furiously.

"What if, and this is all hypothetical of course, she didn't actually know you were going on a hunt?"

“Yeah, okay, but all possible cases we pick up are run through her. She’d find out somehow,” Sam points out, but Charlie only smiles wider as she pulls forth a newly imported file from the Men of Letters database. 

“Normally, yes, she would- but if I happen to bury it before she or anyone besides the three of us sees it then, well...” She turns back around to them with her hands raised, leaving the idea up in the air, and all Dean can do is blink back at her for a moment. 

“You’re okay doing that for me- going behind my mom’s back?” Dean asks incredulously, because even though he knows Charlie is one his best friends she’s always had this  _ thing _ about impressing his mom. She colors a bit at the mention of Mary, but waves it away immediately. 

"Yeah it'll be like a hunter's Rumspringa or something- and if you just want to test the waters I think this case might just work for you," Charlie says with a nod to the screen behind her, and Dean's eyes widen as he steps closer to look at what she's pulled up. 

“How’d this get flagged?” Dean asks, as he reads over the news article she’s pulled up from the system, from a little local paper called the  _ Good Times _ , out of Good Intent, Kansas. 

“Certain keywords got picked up from the unreleased police report. Daniel Bell’s death was marked unusual, and then shelved as an accident, but from what I can tell, there’s a high likelihood there was some definite supernatural meddling going on. Could be a haunting, poltergeist maybe, something that could enter the house with locked doors and windows without forcing itself in,” Charlie says with a shrug, and Dean nods as he begins to scroll through all the gathered information. It’s then, as the idea really takes a hold of Dean, that Sam makes himself heard again. 

"You can't actually be considering this, Dean," he says, expression hard, and Dean can feel himself becoming defensive. 

"So what if I am- I don't know if you're aware of it, but usually people my age are allowed to make decisions for themselves," Dean says, feeling his previous flare of anger spark back up, but Sam only shoots him his classic bitch face in return.

"Yeah, and most people don't decide to jump headlong into monster hunting - It's not like mom's kept us captive here Dean, she gave us an out when we both finished high school, but  _ you _ wanted to work with the Men of Letters-  _ you _ made that decision," Sam reminds him harshly and Dean's mouth snaps shut. So maybe he hadn't been coerced into the spot he is now, but there weren't many options besides give up the life completely or do it all mom and grandad's way.

"Maybe I thought my family would have a little more faith in me, Sam, you ever think of that?" Dean asks, voice unyielding but quieter now. Sam breaths out a bitter sigh, and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You get that it's dangerous right- there's never a guarantee you'd make it back home? It's why we have so many regulations in place Dean, it's why mom- and you know what, it's why  _ I _ don't want you risking your life on some stupid quest to prove yourself to a man who's been dead for ten years," Sam says finally and Dean immediately tenses, eyes skirting to Charlie who's looking distinctly uncomfortable at this point.

"I want to do this for me, not him. I just- I need to see, Sam, if I'm making the right decision here," Dean breathes out, and he finds that it's true, that no matter what Sam says or does, he needs this if he's ever going to try and move on with his life. He needs to know. Sam stares at him unblinkingly for a few moments, arm's crossed and face stony until finally his head drops and he lets out a tense sigh.

"I'm coming with you then."

"Sammy, you don't need to-" Sam holds up his hand as soon as Dean begins to protest and he lets his argument peter off as Sam continues.

"Yeah, Dean I do. If this were any other case we'd have a minimum of four people, and I'm not leaving you to get your ass handed to you by some low level haunting," Sam says with a somewhat bitter expression leaning towards normal brotherly annoyance. 

"So it's mission go?" Charlie asks, and both Sam and Dean turn to her and then each other. Slowly Dean nods, and then Sam turns back to Charlie with an eye roll and a nod.

"Alright boys, then I guess all you need now is a cover story."


	5. Chapter 5

**(✵Cas✵)**

Olivia Small's house is a cramped one-story building, packed between a dozen other poorly kept houses, a normal scene in such a rural location. But the paint on the house is fresh, and there are several cutesy lawn ornaments that Cas has to admit makes it stand out from the other unkempt yards around it. The Lincoln sticks out like a sore thumb among a street of heavy-duty, in use pickup trucks, which leaves Cas hoping this meeting will go over quickly. The less they are noticed as outliers, the better.

"Agent DiFranco, your badge sir," Jess says with a smile as she tosses him a fake I.D. from the center console and he catches it easily, glancing down to double-check everything is in order with the photo and identification. He gets out of the car then, straightening his tie once more as he slips the badge into his top coat pocket, and Jess joins him quickly as they walk up the cracked sidewalk to the house.

Their first knocks at the door receive no reply, and Cas would almost consider cutting their losses, if he hadn't already seen the car parked in the driveway. Jess tries again with the doorbell, and this time they get a weak yell from farther back into the house as a response.

"If she starts crying I'll handle it," Jess whispers as they listen to the sound of footsteps draw nearer. Cas sends a rueful glare in Jess's direction, and she smiles without looking directly at him.

"I can handle emotional people just fine, thank you," he mutters back, just as the door is pulled open. The woman on the other side of the threshold is tiny, thin-boned and tired looking. Her clothes look at least two sizes too big on her, hanging off her figure like lengthy drapery instead of a T-shirt and cardigan. She eyes them with immediate distrust.

"I'm not buying anything right now- or looking to convert thanks," she says, voice rough as she tries to shut the door again, but Cas, feeling slightly vindictive, steps in before Jess can.

"Ms. Small, we're here to discuss Daniel Bell." That stops her in her tracks, with the door half-closed, and her mouth hanging open in surprise. 

"It was an accident- he fell," she says, voice barely loud enough to be above a whisper. This time Jess steps in, easing the door back open, as Small's hand slips from the frame.

"We have reason to believe it might not have been the fall that killed him. This is my partner DiFranco, and I'm Agent Mitchell. We're with the FBI- if we could just have a moment of your time, please?" Jess's voice oozes sincerity, as she and Cas flip open their badges, and the shocked and panicked look eases from Olivia's face. Slowly she steps back from the door, leaving them room enough to enter. 

Once inside, she leads them into an open floor living room directly connected to the hall. It's tiny but cozy, filled with sentimental knickknacks here and there, although the aesthetic of it all seems far more mature for a woman of Ms. Small's age.

"Uh- please sit, I can- well I can get you drinks or-" Small stumbles over her words, obviously flustered, and Cas easily waves away her offer.

"There's no need, really, it's only a few precursory questions about your boyfriend's behavior before the time of his death," Cas says evenly, and Olivia nods her head quickly, before taking a seat across from them in an overly cushy looking loveseat. Plastic crinkles beneath them as he and Jess take a seat on the couch, and Jess flips open a notebook, pen at the ready.

"I should, I should mention, Dan and I- well we broke up a week before he, uh, before his accident," she says, twitching nervously in her seat, and Cas tries not to let his hopes of a physical lead diminish too much.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, Ms. Small, but was the breakup sudden?" Jess pushes softly, and Olivia shakes her head quickly.

"No, no, it was a long time coming. I've wanted to leave Intent for years now, but Dan always- well he loves the countryside, loved that house really," Olivia says shaking her head, lips pursing and eyes taking on a shiny gleam.

"And before you broke up- was Dan acting strangely, did he happen to mention anything odd about the farmhouse?" Cas asks, and Olivia pauses a moment to think, raising a hand to chew at her nails furtively.

"No, I- he was just acting like Dan. A little too obsessed with his pet project but not any more than usual."

" _ Pet project? _ " Jess cuts in, and Olivia drops her hand in her lap as if startled from her memories.

"The house- the house was his whole thing. It's funny ya know, it'd been empty for years just taking up dust, but Dan's always been in love with it. His family had a smaller house nearer to it, and he'd sneak stuff from the orchard out back all the time," Olivia says, shaking her head, the smallest of smiles flitting onto her face at the thought. "And when his grandmother died a couple of years ago she left him a ton of money- he works- or worked at the grocers in town, there's no way he could have bought the place all alone. It's been his goal to renovate it for years, and to think that he died there, it's just-" Olivia's face crumples and Cas and Jess look to each other with concern.

"Had you ever noticed anything odd about the house before, Ms. Small- flickering lights, cold spots- did Daniel ever complain?" Jess asks quickly, obviously hoping to keep the conversation moving, and Olivia pauses in confusion, taken too off guard to be swept up by bad memories anymore.

"I- well the first few months before he got the electrician out, the lights didn't work at all, but that was over a year ago. I'm sorry agents but, what does the house have to do with Dan's death?" Olivia posits rather astutely, and Cas takes a steadying breath before answering.

"We just have to cover all our bases Ms. Small, it  _ was  _ the scene of the crime.”

"Right, well I suppose- the house is in good shape now. It's a nice place, and to be truthful, I wasn't ever upset with Dan for loving it. I don't know if you've been by, but it- I don't know how to describe it. It's peaceful, it's a hard place to leave, really," Olivia says, slightly more tense now, and Cas is getting the impression that should start wrapping things up soon.

"And you said he worked at the grocers, correct- the one in town?" Jess asks and Olivia nods, her leg jumping up and down in a nervous tick. 

"We're sorry to have taken up your time, Ms. Small, but we appreciate the information," Cas says, standing slowly, and Olivia immediately takes the cue to stand as well. 

"It was no problem- really I- you'll tell me if you find anything, right- if it wasn't just an accident?" she asks tentatively and Cas pauses, unsure.

"Of course Ms. Small, you'll be the first notified," Jess says quickly, nudging Cas's arm to get him moving. They're directed to the door, and Olivia barely says her goodbye before the door is being shut in their faces. Cas lets out a sigh, and runs a hand through his hair in agitation.

"I'm trying to decide if that was helpful or not," Jess mutters, as she pulls the Lincoln's keys from her pocket, twirling them idly.

"At least we have our next stop- his employer at the grocer might have a more up to date opinion of his psyche," Cas says, sliding into the passengers side with a frown. 

"Actually I was thinking of hitting up the courthouse, maybe pull up some stuff about the house. We don't have enough information about the history of the place yet," Jess says, checking her rearview mirror before turning the key in the ignition.

"We could split up, cover more ground," Cas tries, and it takes a moment for Jess to respond as she stares straight ahead at the narrow road.

"Fine, but I'm dropping myself off first, I'm starting to get sick of driving today anyway."

"I'm almost glad to see you can be worn down," Cas says, which earns him a halfhearted punch to the shoulder.

She hands him over the keys in the parking lot of the depressingly small courthouse, with plans to meet back up within the next hour or so.

"It shouldn't take more than a half an hour, you shouldn't be alone for long," Cas says, but Jess just waves him off.

"You did your research for the day, I'll slough through some documents for you." She waves him goodbye then, messenger bag swinging at her side, and Cas lets out a sigh of relief. 

It's not a long drive to the grocers, a regular IGA just as rundown as every other building in the town. It's surprising then that as soon as he enters, he garners attention from a bag boy to his left.

"Can I uh- help you, sir?" His name tag reads Joshua, and he can't be more than sixteen, face speckled with acne, and hair lank with grease.

"Yes, I’m here to speak with the store manager. Are they available?"

"So you  _ are  _ here about Dan," the kid says, astutely, and Cas blinks at him for a moment, hands stumbling as they reach for his badge. 

"Yes I- how did you-?"

"Your partner arrived a few minutes ago, I'll take you back to them," he says with a certain amount of excitement, quickly waving over another worker to cover his position. Cas doesn’t think twice before following him, but a number of questions are racing through his mind. 

The first thought that enters his mind is that somehow Jess has made it here before him. A frankly impossible feat as he’d just dropped her off, ten miles away. The second, less pleasant thought is, that Castiel is about to screw them over completely by running head first into an actual Federal agent. But he can’t run, not with Joshua having already seen him- while some people are frankly oblivious to certain odd behaviors of his, taking off so quickly couldn’t be seen as anything but suspicious. 

So Castiel’s only option is stick with this charade and hope he pulls off enough confidence to not be doubted. 

It's not very far to reach the back of the store, where Joshua leads him down a poorly lit hallway to the staff area, and finally to a closed office door. 

Before Cas can think twice about walking into this self-made trap, Joshua opens the door for him, not even knocking to announce their arrival.

They’re met with the startled figures of two men, one who Cas can only assume is the store manager, a slightly balding man in his late fifties, sitting behind the desk, and the other-

"Sorry Agent Buckly, I was just showing your partner in," Joshua says, quickly, motioning Cas forward, as the actual Federal agent sitting across from him turns startling green eyes around on him. 

"Oh, well, I'm George Davis, I've already gone over Dan's role in the store but we were really just getting into things, Agent-?"

"DiFranco," Cas says, trying to keep his voice steady as the other man continues to stare at him. Davis nods and waves his hand towards a second seat for him to take. Cas looks to Agent Buckly hesitantly before taking a seat. The other man still doesn't say a word.

"Joshua, you can go now," Davis says quickly, and Joshua, who'd stayed stuck in the doorway, gives a jerky nod of his head and closes the door. 

Cas's back is ramrod straight, and he tries in vain to get himself to relax. All he has to do is follow Agent Buckly's lead and-

No Cas is just royally screwed.


	6. Chapter 6

**(✵Cas✵)**

There is a tense silence once the door closes behind Joshua, and Cas is by no means going to break it. Agent Buckly has at least turned his gaze away from him, his posture tense and on guard; not a good sign for the rest of this encounter. Not to mention the man is distractingly handsome, which leads to plenty of unhelpful thoughts racing through Cas’s mind. And yet- in a more pressing line of thought, if Buckly knows Cas is an imposter, why is he not  _ saying _ anything?

"Well, Agent Buckly, I think you were about to ask something before the interruption," Davis prompts, looking between the two of them with a raised eyebrow. Buckly nods his head and with a cough sits forward a bit more, ignoring Cas completely.

"Yes, well I was wondering if you could tell me if Dan had mentioned any- disturbances around his house?" Buckly asks seriously, and Davis sits back for a moment to think.

"You mean like if anybody was sneaking around there or something?"

"Or something- did he seem jumpy or more nervous than usual to you?" Buckly continues to prod, and slowly Davis shakes his head.

"No, I can't say I noticed anything unusual. Dan was a pretty big personality around here, and I think any of us would have noticed him acting off- of course, he did mention he was having trouble sleeping that last week before- well," Davis frowns, dropping his gaze to his desk. Before Buckly can manage to step in with his next question, Castiel unthinkingly asks-

"Did he tell you why he wasn't sleeping well?" Cas ignores the quick scrutinizing look this gets him from Buckly as Davis turns his attention towards him.

"As a matter of fact, he did say he was having some odd dreams- he was an awfully loud talker, it was hard to miss if he had anything new to share," Davis rambles but Cas catches on to the dreams immediately- and apparently so does Buckly.

"Did he say what these dreams were about- if they were nightmares or maybe visions?" This time Davis doesn't respond right away, just looks at Buckly with an uncertain skepticism.

"No, he said they had something to do with stars, and- well the rest seemed pretty wild to me but I don't see what this has to do with his accident," Davis says carefully, but he's given Castiel exactly what he needs.

"One last question for me, Mr. Davis- this dream- did it happen to be about a falling star?"

"Yeah, yeah it did- how did you-?"

"Well I think that about covers it, George- we'll get out of your hair now," Agent Buckly says abruptly, standing from his seat, and Cas does his best to casually follow his lead. Davis tries to protest weakly, but Buckly already has his hand on the doorknob and he's got an arm outstretched to signal for Cas to leave first. 

"Thank you for your time," Cas mutters as he shuffles past Agent Buckly, and Davis gives a weak wave before they're both out the door and back into the dim hallway. Before Cas can think to maybe make a decided exit from the scene, Agent Buckly has his hand on his arm keeping him in place.

“I think we need to talk.”

"If you don't mind I'd rather take this somewhere more private," Cas says carefully, glancing down at Buckly's hand on his arm, and it's removed quickly after.

"Sure buddy, why don't we just take a quick step outside," Buckly smiles sweetly, but Cas isn't falling for the charm of it. He knows whatever is about to happen isn't going to be good.

They take an exit out at the end of the hall, a pair of large bay doors that open out onto the loading dock of the store. They're completely alone now, and Cas's hand is already itching to reach for the gun holstered within his jacket.

"So-  _ Agent Difranco _ \- what do you think Daniel Bell's dreams mean?" Buckly asks as soon as the doors swing closed behind them, and Cas pauses, caught off guard, and quickly trying to assess how he should answer this question. He’d been sure that Buckly was about to out him as a fake.

"Well- it's always important to understand the emotional makeup of the victim, dreams can mean a lot when put into consideration,” Cas tires, and Agent Buckly's eyebrows raise, and he nods, looking almost appreciative. 

"Of course, of course, and the falling star what do you think that uh-  _ symbolized? _ " Buckly prods, and Cas is really at a loss this time. He knows the star is important- he's seen it himself not four hours ago, but he couldn't exactly give that away to this Federal agent.

"It uh- it could be pointing towards Bell's own worry of- falling, I suppose," Cas tries hastily, and this time Buckly actually laughs, and it is at this point that Cas begins to wonder where this conversation is supposed to be going.

“That is certainly an interesting take- now  _ Agent DiFranco _ , I don’t think I caught it back there but, what department are you actually from?” Buckley asks, his smile is somehow more vicious this time, like he knows he’s won, but as Cas and Jess have gone over this many times, he actually has an answer to this line of questioning.

“I’m with the CID, there must have been some mixup at headquarters but I can give you the number of my superior if you don’t-”

"Listen buddy- I appreciate the effort but- you're a hunter aren't you?" This stops Cas in his tracks, and all he can do is blink momentarily before he closes his eyes with a slow long sigh.

"You're not- an actual Federal agent." 

"No, but I'm glad to see the monkey suit did its job. Was it my commanding tone of voice that did it? Or do I just give off an air of authority?" Not-Buckly asks with a grin, and Cas shoots him a glare, his hackles rising at the ease with which this man is seeming to handle their situation.

"If you're done with this, I have somewhere else to be," Cas says roughly, and turns away from the other man, with every intention of getting back to the Lincoln and then to Jess.

"Whoa, whoa wait, man- if we're both working the case, don't you think we could- I don't pool resources," Not-Buckly tries, reaching to grab Cas's wrist. He lets go as soon as Cas sends him a rather withering glare, but he doesn't back off.

"We're not working this case together," Cas says lowly, and for some reason, the other man begins to smile.

"Well if you think I have it covered, I appreciate you skipping town," He says, and Cas's immediate thought is-  _ Oh, so this man is an idiot. _

" _ I _ think that you're overly cocky and dangerous, actually. My partner and I have this handled," Cas replies harshly, but the other man just shakes his head with a smirk. 

"Yeah that's not happening, but I'll be happy to give a helping hand when the time comes," and with that he's heading back towards the grocers, leaving Cas in the damp spring air. 

Overall his situation could be better, but it's much preferred to being dragged away in handcuffs. At least this way, all Cas has to worry about is wrapping up the case as quickly as possible. With an angry sigh, he digs into his coat pocket for his car keys and begins the trek back to the car, already feeling the chill of late afternoon beginning to creep under his skin.

The other hunter is nowhere in sight thankfully, and as Cas slips inside the Lincoln, he flips open his phone to pull up Jess's number. 

He has every intention of calling her when through the windshield of the car he feels the presence of a set of watchful eyes. It's instinct at this point, after years of hunting, but still, it takes a moment for Castiel to spot him.

Across the street, a man standing at no more than 5'8" is watching him. He has childish round features, a face that a smile would fit perfectly on, and Cas is struck suddenly with an intense feeling of recognition. He's halfway out of the car before he knows what he's doing, preparing to step into oncoming traffic, as the man's eyes follow him, blonde hair and hazel eyes shimmering in the weak light. But just as Cas has the chance to call out, to reach him, the man is gone. Obstructed one moment by a passing vehicle, and then suddenly the man had vanished. 

Cas takes a step back from the sidewalk, feeling something like dread twist in his stomach, phone still open and clutched tightly in his palm. 

It's the ringtone that startles him from his whirling thoughts, and he looks down to see Jess's number on the screen.

He answers it quickly, unsure if his voice has managed to sound at all steady.

"Hey, you finished over there?" Jess's voice is a welcome familiarity, and finally, Cas turns his gaze from that sport across the road, letting go of a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Yes I- have you found anything?" he asks and immediately receives an excited reply.

"Yeah, I found exactly what we're looking for- it didn't even take me long, which is insanely lucky because their archives were a mess but I just stumbled onto the house deed, and well it just all came together after that," Jess says, her voice bright, and Cas can't help but smile as he makes his way back to the Lincoln. He’s always been fond of the way she takes joy from solving difficult puzzles. 

"Alright, I'll be by in five to pick you up- I have some other news but I'd rather tell you in person," he says, and he can hear Jess deliberating for a moment, the desire to push for more information obvious even in her silence.

"Okay, see you in five Cas."

"See you in five," Cas repeats, staring out across the street in worry as he turns the key in the ignition.


	7. Chapter 7

**(✵Dean✵)**

Dean is trying not to panic and failing spectacularly by the time Sam makes his way back to the motel. He's already gotten a call from his mother this afternoon asking how their trip to Kansas City is going, and with the added pressure of this new asshole hunter, Dean is just about ready to give up the ghost. Pun not entirely intended.

As soon as Sam's frame squeezes through the tiny door, Dean is jumping up from the bed where he'd been panic eating stale vending machine chips.

"Please tell me you have something," he says, and Sam’s eyebrows raise before he shakes his head with a sigh.

"Yeah, I mean, I got the original deed to the house photocopied, but uh- there’s nothing weird about the place Dean- not that I can see," Sam says taking off his suit jacket to throw it over one of the dining set chairs. Dean pinches the bridge of his nose as he lets out a groan of dismay.

"Great- well maybe it wasn’t a ghost then, maybe Bell’s death isn’t even connected to the house. But it’s still... suspicious," Dean tries, but Sam is looking less and less sure. 

"I mean we could stop by the house tomorrow, do a check for sulfur and EMF readings just in case," he says carefully and Dean nods, his head still feeling tense. It’s apparently obvious enough for Sam to notice though.

"Dude are you alright? We've been here for less than a day, sometimes it takes a while to put all the pieces together," Sam says, sitting down at the dining set and Dean goes to sit down across from him on the end of his bed.

"Yeah no, I get that, it’s just- okay listen don’t panic- it’s really not that big of a deal but- we've got some hunter company in town," Dean says quickly, and Sam's eyes widen in alarm.

"Dean, man you know how much this complicates things. Mom’s connected to the hunter network, and if she hears-"

"We'll what- get grounded? Not our biggest worry. The guy I talked to has no intention of skipping town though, and at this point, I’d really like to beat him to the punch on this," Dean says thinking back to their little confrontation outside of the IGA. Agent DiFranco, or whatever his real name was, had been an interesting encounter to say the least. Hard to look away from, but also impossibly infuriating.

" _ No _ , that means we should leave. I'm sure Charlie can pick us up another case. It’s not worth pissing off a couple of hunters for this Dean. You know they can be just as dangerous as the monsters," Sam says gravely, but Dean isn't going to back down from this.

"No, no Sam you didn't see this guy, no way am I backing down," Dean says stubbornly and Sam immediately rolls his eyes.

"Okay I see, so this is like a grudge match now. I thought this was about living up to dad’s legacy- which was already a dumb idea- but now you're putting us in danger to prove yourself to some stranger!" Sam snaps, and it's Dean’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Alright fine, if we don't find anything tomorrow I'll call Charlie up and we'll ditch- you happy now, princess?" Dean asks waspishly, standing from the bed in a huff, and heading for the bathroom. Behind him, he can hear Sam sigh in consternation. 

"Yeah Dean, I'm happy."

**⛥⛧⛥**

**(✵Cas✵)**

Jess has him drive her to the diner before she says a word about what's within the folders she's gripping tightly to her chest. She's been giddy since he picked her up from the courthouse, very nearly bouncing into her seat once he'd parked. And to top it off, she doesn't even mention letting her drive them. All this is something of a comfort after the two encounters back at the IGA.

Jess orders first, keeping her file tucked safely to her side, leaving Cas to mutter an order for a bacon cheeseburger and fries as he waits impatiently.

When their waitress finally does pull away, Cas raises his eyebrows at Jess to start, and finally she places the file between them both. 

“I got lucky this time Cas, it took me fifteen minutes for them to pull these records for me," she says as she flips open the manila folder, and begins sliding across photocopied documents.

"There's the original deed to the house, built at the turn of the century by one Thomas Simmons. And over here is a photo of the completion of the house. Apparently it was big news at the time, one of the first to go up around here," Jess says quickly shuffling through the papers, pulling up one after the other.

"So the house does have a history- what about the, uh-"

"The ghost? Well, I had to dig a little for that one, but the guy working there pointed it out to me, that Simmons's wife, Leanna, had a pretty gruesome obituary," Jess says, and the grin on her face while decidedly morbid, is infectious at this point.

"Let me guess, a nasty fall down the stairs?" Cas prompts, and Jess nods, pulling forth the last of the papers to show him an old black and white photo of the house.

"The house has been abandoned ever since. My guess is, Bell's reconstruction efforts must have unearthed something to wake her back up,” Jess says, and Castiel nods carefully.

"She wasn't cremated was she?"

"At the turn of the century? No. Which means we're going grave digging tonight," Jess sighs, but Cas is somewhat relieved.

"It’s better than searching around the house again for a long forgotten item of hers. Did you get the gravesite location?"

"Yeah, it's about two miles from the house. A little secluded family plot, we shouldn't have any unexpected visitors catching us in the act." 

"About unexpected visitors- I met another hunter during my meeting with Daniel Bell's manager at IGA," Cas says, and Jess’s eyes widen a fraction at the news.

"That might explain, tall, dark and handsome I saw at the courthouse earlier. I slipped out of there before he could see me but he was talking with the same guy who directed me towards Simmons's files," Jess says with a slight smile and shake of her head, and Cas's eyes widen.

"So he wasn't alone then," he mutters and Jess shoots him an odd look.

"Doesn't matter much now, we'll be out of here by tomorrow afternoon,” she says easily, and Cas has to concede that the other hunter really isn’t his problem anymore.

The waitress comes back with their meals, greasy and golden and smelling incredibly delicious on Cas's empty stomach. He realizes he hasn't actually eaten today since before the mishap at the vending machines earlier. 

As Jess digs into her grilled chicken sandwich, Cas pauses with a frown, hands gripped loosely around his burger.

While all evidence now points towards a solvable case- an  _ easy case _ , he can't help but feel like there is some missing piece. Maybe his vision had been nothing more than some odd side effect of a nasty concussion, and maybe Daniel Bell had had the same dream because- 

Jess is looking at him now, mustard smeared across her lip and she looks on the edge of asking him something he doesn't know if he can answer.

He shoves the burger into his mouth without any more preamble, hoping she'll assume he'd simply zoned out for a moment. She swallows, takes a breath- and then grabs for her drink, and Cas's shoulders relax minutely.

He's over thinking this, whatever is going on with the farmhouse, it has to do with the ghost, this Leanna Simmons. Maybe she'd been a fan of Astronomy, maybe she'd been trying to warn them away from the house. A falling star could be some omen of bad luck.

They finish their meal a half an hour later, collecting their research and heading back to the motel to prepare for their night time dig. Cas makes sure to toss the medical tape to Jess who'd forgotten to wrap her palms the previous time and had come away with some pretty horrible blisters. 

After they pack, all they have left to do is wait for the sun to sink below the horizon, thankfully not too late this early in the year. He lets Jess pick some over dramatic hospital soap opera that he ends up slightly too invested in before their room gets dark. 

And then it's time.

The ride out to the private cemetery is quiet, Jess hasn't let him play any of Stephen’s old tapes in over a year, and he misses them sometimes, the comfortable familiarity in the lyrics and songs. But he knows they carry something different for Jess, a little more hurt is hidden behind the old Fleetwood Mac tracks. Something that Cas was never privy to.

"Okay, just turn on to this road, and it should be a mile or so into the woods," Jess points out towards a turn in the road that's barely anything but a dirt trail. 

The Lincoln has never been one for deep country driving, and she groans softly once they turn off the pavement. Jess gives a slight frown as the carriage of the car rattles beneath them.

"We could ditch this car, you know- for something that's less of a death trap pimp mobile," Jess says as the headlights ahead of them catch sight of a dense patch of forest.

"It has sentimental value,” Cas argues, even if he's had the same thoughts of better gas mileage and safety concerns himself. But she's the Lincoln, and there's no point in ever considering letting her go beyond a point of maybe complete destruction.

"Well, I think we're going to have to stop here, that trail’s way too small for us to fit through,” Jess says evenly, and Cas has to agree. He swipes his flashlight from the dash before he cuts the ignition, cloaking them in darkness for a long silent moment before he's shining his light back into the darkened night. 

Jess grabs their duffel bags from the truck and she tosses him his before making a steady pace for the wooded trail.

"Here's hoping it was a shallow grave," Jess mutters, as she hitches her bag a little higher up on her shoulder and Cas laughs softly. 

It’s still too cold out for the insects to be back out, but the forest is still loud as newly budding leaves crinkle softly in the wind, and the branches creak with their movement. It’s peaceful for what they're about to do, and Cas is almost glad for it. He's never truly been fond of these burns.

Ghosts were only a step away from humans, fueled only by human emotions. It’s never enjoyable to end their time on earth once and for all. 

The cemetery at the end of the trail is small, a dozen or so graves with crumbling headstones wait for them, and Cas worries a moment they won't be able to read the inscriptions well enough to find Leanna’s. 

"Here, this is Thomas's grave so this must be-" Jess pauses as she brushes away some sediment and leaf build up, and she grins once it reveals the nearly completely faded name of Leanna Simmons.

They work quickly from there, each taking an end to start digging. The wind picks up a little as they work, and Cas has to repeatedly stop to clear his eyes of dirt flung his way. But they reach the end of their goal within the hour.

Leanna Simmons's body is almost completely gone, dust and disintegrating fabric, with bone fragments here and there. Barely a person, barely anything at all. 

Jess dumps the salt first, and waits patiently for Cas to unscrew the gasoline so he can douse the corpse thoroughly. 

A howl shrieks through the forest and Cas isn’t sure if it's the wind, or some startled animal, or even Leanna Simmons trying to stop them with one last ditch effort, but he doesn’t hesitate as he flicks the lighter down into the grave.

She goes up easily then, slowly but surely as the wind dies down. Cas watches forlornly as she burns.

The only sound in the forest left is the crackling of the flames.


	8. Chapter 8

**(✵Cas✵)**

Cas lets them sleep in the next morning, a small reprieve to the chain of cases they've had the past month. His back had ached something fierce by the time they’d packed Leanna's grave once more, and he was sure Jess was feeling the same strain of exhaustion.

For the first time in a while, the sun is already up by the time Cas awakens, but the feeling of rest he'd hoped would have settled over him is nonexistent.

There is a steady thrum of unease within him, and he sits up from the bed with a frown. Jess is still asleep, curled in on herself, her blond hair messy and tangled over the pillow. She looks younger this way, smaller, and something clenches in Cas's chest. 

It's only eight, and he knows that they don't really have to be on the road anytime soon, so he lets her sleep as he pads into the bathroom for a much needed shower after a night of digging. He watches aimlessly as the brown water whirls its way down the drain, trying helplessly to pinpoint what it is that's bothering him.

The case was finished, all but confirmed with last night's near encounter with the ghost of Leanna Simmons. They would leave Good Intent and Garth would get them a new case and they'd- well they'd keep driving, keep hunting. 

Cas shuts off the water with a deep sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face to remove the excess water. 

Jess is up when he gets out, rubbing her eyes and blinking blearily at him. He tries to smile at her, but he's not sure he manages it. She's not awake enough to notice anyway.

"I need coffee," she mutters under her breath as she drags herself up from bed, passing him for the bathroom, and he chuckles half heartedly.

"We'll have a big farewell breakfast at the diner. Shower and I'll pack up for us," he says, and Jess smiles dreamily before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"You're a God send Cas, you know that?" she asks rhetorically, and without waiting for a response she closes the door to the steamy bathroom. Cas rubs at his cheek unconsciously, for a moment, something unsettling stirring in his chest. He goes to collect his clothes and tries not to think about why. 

He looks forlornly to the ruined green flannel, still covered in ghoul blood, and instead pulls out the palatable red and black for the day, and then a less than clean pair of jeans.

Jess takes a long shower, he's sure past the point where the water is even warm, but it gives him plenty of time to straighten the room. Removing any evidence they'd ever even stayed at the Moonlight Lounge. Jess's research is stuffed to the bottom of the duffel, which is sure to be thrown away later. 

When Jess steps out from the bathroom, she's far more awake, face fresh and looking far more happy that the case has been completed than he is.

"You know, I was thinking maybe we head to the coast for a bit, ya know, just drive and see if we find anything along the way. It could almost be considered a vacation," she says as she motions for him to turn as she grabs a new pair of underwear and bra to put on. 

"I don't- see why not, unless Garth has something new for us. I haven't called him about this being over yet though," Cas says, averting his eyes to his work of cleaning his gun. Jess snorts softly behind him, and when he hears the sound of fabric rustling indicating her putting on a shirt, he turns to look at her.

"Garth isn't dad you know, we can do whatever we want-  _ go _ wherever we want," she says, shoving her legs into a ripped pair of jeans.

"He's our friend, I don't like letting him down," Cas says softly, and Jess stops, a frown pulling the corners of her mouth down.

"Sometimes it's okay to do that Cas- you're human. Sometimes we let people down," Jess says softly, and Cas turns his gaze away from her, momentarily speechless.

"We can- we can head for the coast if you want. You're right that there's nothing stopping us from it," he says finally, zipping closed his duffel, keeping his eyes turned down as he hears Jess let out a quiet sigh.

"We don't have to, if you don't want to, it was just a suggestion," she replies, and he tries to ignore the bitter tone of her voice. She grabs her packed duffle from beside him, slinging it over her shoulder and pulling open the door for him. He passes her with a wary look, but she's just staring out at the car, face blank.

Checkout goes over smoothly, as Jess waits behind with the Lincoln, but by the time they reach the diner, it's bustling with Saturday morning patrons. 

Their waitress, a harried-looking middle-aged woman, quickly directs them to a booth in the back and haphazardly tosses them their menus without so much as a good morning. Jess doesn't mention California again as she looks over their menu silently, and Cas isn't sure how to remedy the situation. He doesn't know why he struggles with this desire to never stop, never let himself rest. He doesn't know why he drags her along with him.

He's not particularly hungry at the moment, but when their waitress returns, in lieu of worrying Jess further, he orders a plate of over-easy eggs and bacon and a cup of black coffee. Jess gets a stack of pancakes, extra syrup, and then there are no menus between them anymore. 

"Jess if you-"

"Well if it isn't Agent DiFranco," the voice breaks Cas away from the tense air between him and Jess, and his head whips up quickly to see the smiling and dazzling face of  _ not _ -Buckly. There's another man behind him, lanky and also rather handsome, except he looks like he has actual qualms about interrupting basic stranger's conversations.

"Hello," Cas says tersely, and the other man just grins down at him, hand placed on the top of Cas's booth seat. 

"You know, I thought you said you wouldn’t be skipping town so soon,” he says casually, leaning in closer, and Cas gives him a sharp look.

“I sincerely hope you weren’t following us,” Cas says venomously, and the other man's hands go up in defense, mouth still quirked up in a teasing manner.

“We saw you check out this morning- you know the Lounge is just about the only decent motel around here,” he explains casually, and Cas turns away with an eye roll.

“The case is finished, we don’t have any reason to stay around. Now if you don’t mind, my partner and I were talking,” Cas tries to sound as dismissive as he possibly can, and he watches for a moment as the two other men look at one another in question.

“My apologies,”  _ not _ -Buckly says, but instead of taking himself and the other man away from their table he holds out a hand to Jess with his signature charming smile. “I never introduced myself properly, name’s Dean, this is my brother Sam.”

Jess, the traitor, smiles back and takes the proffered hand. When Cas shoots her a glare she just shrugs.

“I’m Jess, and my friend here is Cas. He’s  _ usually _ like this,” she says, sending a look to the other man,  _ Sam _ , and gives him an apologetic shrug. Cas doesn’t see how he’s not supposed to be offended.

“Nice to meet you Jess- now the diner’s looking pretty busy, you don’t mind if we join you? Maybe you can tell us how you wrapped up the case so quickly,” Dean asks, motioning to their booth, and Cas’s mouth almost drops in surprise at the gall.

He’s replying with a firm  _ No _ , when Jess answers for him.

“Sure, I don’t see why not,” she says, and immediately scoots over to make room for Sam. Cas is too taken aback to fight the slight shove Dean gives him to move over. He sends a bewildered look in Jess’s direction to which he is given a very unimpressed reply to.

“It’s not like they’re going to get in the way of the case now,” she mutters across to him, but he doesn’t let the sour look leave his face. 

“Now-  _ Cas _ , how was it that you managed to finish the case?” Dean asks, placing his hand on his chin and turning to Cas with a faux wondering look. Cas turns away from him, and speaks to Sam instead, who’s spent this entire time looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Cas appreciates that about him.

“Jess found the original deed to the house, and then the original owners. Leanna Simmons fell down the farmhouse stairs, broke her neck, and was buried on a family plot about two miles away from the house. We took care of her last night,” Cas says evenly, and as he does so, Sam’s eyes widen a fraction. He sends a confused look in his brother's direction, and then to Jess.

“That’s not- possible.”

“Well I have the blisters to prove I dug up a corpse last night, I don’t see what’s not possible,” Jess says defensively and Sam shakes his head quickly, a serious look crossing over his face.

“I just went over the documentation yesterday. No one by the name of Simmons owned that house. The original owners were the Wrights, in the 70’s,” he says hastily, and Jess’s face screws up in confusion. 

“But the house was built in 1915,” she says, and again Sam shakes his head. 

“No, construction was completed in 1974.”

“I held that deed in my hand, it was a turn of the century house,” Jess says harshly, not looking pleased anymore at her allowance of the brothers intrusion at their table.

“Whoa okay, we’re not saying you’re lying but I saw those documents yesterday too. Work permits from the construction company that helped build it and everything,” Dean says carefully, for the first time letting his carefree attitude slip. Cas blinks at him in surprise for a moment before turning to Jess.

“I kept the photocopies you collected, they’re in your duffel in the car,” he says calmly, suddenly feeling very much like his worst fears are coming to light.

“Okay, so we have proof-  _ Sam _ ,” Jess motions for him to get up, and he gladly gets out of the booth following her as she makes a path through the crowded diner. Cas watches them go with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Dean clears his throat next to him.

“Okay, so this isn’t exactly how I saw things going this morning,” he says, softly, and Cas nearly laughs at the absurdity of it.

“And how did you see things going?” Cas asks wearily, turning finally to look at Dean head on. 

“Listen I can’t expect you to understand but- I needed this case. I was just- I mean yeah, I was being a dick, I get that,” Dean says running a hand down his face, and Cas is almost impressed by the truthfulness of the statement.

“I can’t say I’ve been on my best behavior either,” Cas relents, and Dean gives a slight nod of his head in agreement. 

“That doesn’t stop this from being super weird-“ Dean stops when the bell above the door rings out and Jess and Sam appear again at the front.

And then she and Sam are standing over the table looking far more worried than they had when they’d left just minutes before.

“They’re gone,” Jess says, face tense and Cas can feel his throat tighten. 

“What do you mean- did someone steal them?” Cas asks, wanting to stand, but Dean is still blocking his way out of the booth. Before he can really panic at a possible breach of the Lincoln, Jess tosses down a pile of blank pages. He looks down at them in confusion, and then back up at Jess and Sam.

“Something really fucking weird is going on, Cas,” Jess says, face grim and he can’t help but agree. They all sit silently a moment, trying to grasp the depths of this new turn of events. And then something else occurs to Cas.

“The grave- we need to check the grave,” Cas says suddenly, and Jess’s eyes widen as she nods. 

“Order of pancakes, and then over easy eggs with a side of bacon,” they’re all startled from this revelation as their waitress from before finally reappears carrying a tray laden with food. She places their plates down without so much as looking at the two new faces, and then she’s whisked away again back into the hustling crowd.

“I’ll go start the car,” Sam says, and beside him Jess nods, staring forlornly at her untouched coffee cup. They push their way through the crowd again.

“You might want to get that to go,” Dean says, patting Cas on the shoulder before slipping out of the booth. He glares down at his plate for a moment before he lets out a harsh sigh, and grabs his jacket to leave. He tosses several crumpled bills on the table as an afterthought and hopes it’s enough.

When he exits the diner seconds later he sees Dean getting behind the wheel of a large black car. The same Chevy Impala Cas had marveled at just yesterday, and it makes some amount of annoyance flare in his chest.

“Of course that’s their car,” Cas mutters under his breath, as he slips into the Lincoln quickly, Jess already tucked into the passenger's side seat. Without needing to communicate, the Impala follows closely behind the Lincoln as they repeat the drive from the night before.

Cas is too tense to speak, too tense to think about what they might find at the end. 

The same turn they’d taken the night before is still there, still nothing but a dirt path. He takes it slowly, feeling his palms itch on the steering wheel as they rumble closer to the copse of trees. He sees the problem before Jess points it out to him.

“The path is gone,” she says quietly, face pale and he stops the car slowly. The Impala halts behind them, and then Sam and Dean are stepping out looking confused. 

Cas exits the car, eyes still glued to the forest ahead of them, scanning for any sign of the gap they’d entered through the night before. But there’s nothing, the trees are at least two decades old, tall and thick, and there’s no way Cas couldn’t have noticed them before.

As Sam and Dean approach, Cas turns to them with a wary look, voice hard and strained.

“Something wanted us gone, us specifically. So you’ve got a deal Dean- we work together, and we take down whatever’s been messing with us, messing with-” he stops before he says  _ reality _ , because whatever can do  _ that _ , that can change events to suit it- it’s more powerful than anything he’s ever encountered. 

Dean looks at him for a moment, careful and considering, and then turns to his brother with a knowing look. When Sam nods, Cas knows they’ve got a deal.

“Alright Cas.  _ Where do we start? _ ”


	9. Chapter 9

**(✵Dean✵)**

Dean is almost worried after the fifth ring that Charlie won't pick up. With his last three texts ignored he can't help but think the worst- that maybe this reality-changing creature has affected things  _ outside _ of Good Intent.

But then the line clicks

"Dean-"

"Thank fuck- what are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?" Dean asks, not quite snapping in relief, and he can hear a muffled sigh on the other end of the line.

"Well sorry if I've been trying to keep things hush on this side, Dean. Your mom’s kind of maybe starting to get suspicious of me,” she hisses back quietly, like she's trying to hide the fact she's on the phone with him, which is so not a good time for this.

"What happened? She called me yesterday and everything seemed fine," Dean asks, and across the room, Sam looks up from his laptop to raise an eyebrow, which Dean immediately waves away to turn his attention back to his work.

"I left the case file open last night, Sam called and said you were having trouble finding any dirt on the house, and I went to go grab a coffee, and- well she saw it okay," Charlie says with a sigh, and Dean pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"What did you tell her?"

"Just that it was a possible case, but with a very low likelihood of anything special- told her we could pick it up if we had people to spare, but otherwise to just leave it," Charlie says quickly, and Dean nods along, trying not to let himself panic about this now.

"Okay, alright, it could be worse. Listen Charlie- that research you were doing for Sam- I need you to widen it, not just for ghost-related activity, anything strange or weird. You find anything at all, I need you to call me okay," Dean says, and there's a pause on the other end of the line, as Charlie takes this in.

"Did anything happen there Dean? If you guys need backup I can send for it, I'll cover for you with your mom, tell her it was my idea-"

"Charlie, no we're good, we have- help. Also, this  _ was _ your idea, so I'd hope you'd cover for me," Dean says with a huff of indignation, but already he can hear movement on the other side of the call. 

"I'm going to ignore the fascinating bit of that last statement with the hope you'll fill me in later, but I have to go," Charlie says in rush, her voice even lower now that Dean can barely parse what she's trying to say.

"Charlie-" the line goes dead before Dean can finish. He looks to his phone for a moment in frustration before flipping it shut. He tosses it down on the table next to Sam's laptop. His brother, sensing his mood, looks up while closing his own device.

"More bad news?" He asks, already seemingly knowing the truth, and Dean rolls his eyes.

"Just mom- which compared to the rest of the shit on our plate right now, it’s nothing. Charlie's going to look a little deeper for us, hopefully, she can pull something," Dean says with a sigh, slipping down into one of the cramped kitchenette chairs. 

"Maybe we should call for-" Sam cuts off as Dean sends him a harsh look, already knowing what he was planning on saying.

"We're not calling for backup- we've got Cas and Jess, and Charlie for help, more people would just get in the way," Dean says firmly, and Sam throws him his signature bitch face.

"Listen, Dean- Jess and Cas seem competent enough but we don't  _ know  _ them, and you’re gonna just what- trust them with your life on this?" Sam asks incredulously, and Dean shrugs.

“You seemed pretty keen on Jessica there Sam. What, you don't think she's trustworthy? Cas and I just got off on the wrong foot-  _ so what? _ We don't need to bring in the Men of Letters all gung ho, at least not until we have some fucking idea of what's going on here," Dean says, and Sam's face flushes red as he turns back to his laptop with a frown. 

"I'm not trying to doubt them or whatever. I just want us to be smart about this, is all," Sam says, his anger from before carefully controlled now and Dean lets out a sigh.

"I didn't ask you to come, you know," he says, knowing it's hurtful, and the harsh look it gets him from Sam just makes him feel his stomach sink even further. 

"I wasn't going to just let you-" Sam is caught off guard by a loud knock on their door, and wanting to be done with this conversation as soon as possible, Dean is the one to jump up and get it. He forgets to check the peephole before opening it, which garners him an exasperated noise from Sam, before they both find Jess and Cas on the other side.

"You all squared away again?" Dean asks, as he opens the door wider for them to enter the room, and Cas nods with a tired look.

"We're just two door's down from you now, although the woman at the front desk gave me a nasty look for showing back up an hour after checkout," he says, running a hand down his face as he comes to rest half way into the room.

"She was like seventeen Cas, I think it was more of a hormonal response than anything," Jess says with a snort as she comes to sit next to Sam, in Dean's emptied chair.

"Alright well- where to from here?" Dean asks, looking between the two hunters, who seem more exhausted than he's seen two people look before. 

"I want to get another look around the house- we picked up EMF last time, but if it's not a ghost I'd like to know what's causing such massive spikes," Cas says, and Dean nods along quickly.

"Then I can tag along with you," Dean says with a smile, and Cas's eyes widen a fraction before turning to Jess.

"Usually Jess and I-" Cas begins before Jess cuts in.

"Actually Cas, I was hoping to look into a hunch of mine. I know we've personally never encountered one before but when I was trying to come up with a creature that could alter certain parts of reality, I thought that maybe we could be dealing with a trickster," she says with a shrug, and Cas pauses for a moment, frowning. Before he can say anything however, Sam jumps in.

"That could be it, but what about the whole just deserts thing? I mean, as far as we've seen, Daniel Bell was just some guy- not exactly someone who would get on the wrong end of a trickster," he says speculatively, and Jess turns to him, excitement gleaming in her eyes.

"Yeah, but not all trickster deities are the same- some Fae creatures cause mischief or destruction for no other reason than for the fun of it," she says, and Sam nods along already looking about ten times more ready to trust these complete strangers than he was just two minutes before. Dean rolls his eyes before he turns back to Cas with a shrug.

"Looks like it’s back to you and me bud," Dean says, pushing away from the door to grab his jacket from the coat hanger, and Cas gives him a tense nod, before going over to whisper something privately to Jess.

She waves him away in seconds, and he glares at her a moment before joining Dean at the front of the room again, motioning for him to exit out first.

"Hope you don't mind if we take Baby, I don't get to have her out on the road often these days," Dean says over his shoulder, as he twirls his keys around his finger, and Cas gives a silent shrug as he closes the hotel door behind him. Dean lets out a breath, feeling slightly disappointed he'd defended Cas so harshly to his brother before.

Maybe their rough start wasn't quite finished yet.

**⛥⛧⛥**

It's an awkward ride out into the country but Dean does his best to let it all slide. Some people just aren't talkers and Cas probably has a lot on his mind, and it has nothing to do with the fact he inexplicably doesn't like Dean. It's just- usually people  _ like _ Dean. He may act like somewhat of an asshole sometimes, but that's normally pretty endearing to people- or so he's found. He just doesn't know what he's doing wrong when it comes to Cas.

The house at the end of the road seems especially large and grand for something closer to dilapidated. There's an elegance to the swoop of the roof, and gently peeling paint that almost puts a smile on his face. It looks like somewhere he'd like to settle down.

It's an odd thought to strike him, and he blinks in surprise for a moment before bringing the car to a rolling stop about a yard from the porch. Cas gets out before he can say a word, and with a sigh, he opens up his own door.

"So, where should we start, in or out?" Dean asks casually, sliding up to Cas who is staring down the house with an intense look of contemplation.

"We can split up and check both at the same time," Cas says matter of factly, tearing his eyes away from the house to look at Dean critically, but all Dean can do is roll his eyes.

"Yeah, that's a no go. I don't know Jess that well but I'm pretty sure she'd kick my ass if I let us split up. That's like rule numero uno, man," Dean says, and then nudges Cas's shoulder to get him moving around the side of the house.

"I vote outside first, since it is such a lovely day," he says with a grin, and Cas frowns but doesn't argue with the reasoning. It doesn't make Dean feel too much better about the impression he's making though. 

He slips an EMF detector from his coat pocket and begins inspecting the edges of the house as Cas walks beside him, eyeing the surrounding fields critically. The detector beeps softly, all normal readings so far, and Dean lets himself relax as a soft cool breeze blows over his face. He hadn't been lying before when he'd said it was a nice day out, the sky clear of clouds, a soft calming blue above them, and the sweet scent of growth mingled in the air. 

When they reach the back of the house, Dean takes in a breath as they stumble upon an orchard full of brightly blooming apple trees, the flowers give off a heady and pleasant smell that immediately draws him in towards the copse of trees, running his free hand against their rough bark.

"I don't think the orchard is of any significance to the case," Cas says behind him, voice tense and Dean turns back around to throw him a slightly disdainful look.

"Neither of us knows for sure what's going on dude. You know my dad once came across this town in Indiana which was sacrificing people to this pagan fertility god- maybe it's something like that," Dean says with a shrug, and Cas's expression softens somewhat in consideration.

"I don't think Bell’s death was ritualistic enough in manner but- you are right, we shouldn't leave anything out," Cas says carefully, Dean lets himself give a surprised smile in return, before he sees something eye catching up ahead.

"Now, I'm no horticulturist but- isn't apple season in about seven months?" Dean asks as he takes quick steps into the middle of the grove of trees, before plucking a bright red apple from the boughs of one of the dozen or so trees heavy with fruit. Cas blinks at them for a moment in bewilderment, as he looks over the fresh and healthy looking stock of fruit. Dean sniffs at the apple in his hand and then takes a tentative bite out of it. Cas immediately turns to him, eyes wide in shock, and Dean just shrugs with his mouth full. The fruit in question is, well- Dean's not even a fruit person and it's just about the best damn thing he's ever had.

"That could be poisoned for all we know," Cas mutters, inspecting the trees and Dean gives a small huff of laughter as he finishes his bite.

"What- you think Daniel Bell was an evil queen? Seems kind of weird to grow a  _ whole _ orchard of poisoned apples," Dean says with a shrug, taking another bite of the apple, waving around the EMF detector lazily and Cas just sighs as he squats to look over the roots of the tree in the middle of the orchard. As far as Dean can tell there's no rhyme or reason to the seasons of the trees around them, farther back into the orchard he spies several that have leaves turning orange and red, about two seasons ahead of the rest of them. 

Feeling slightly more apprehensive about the apple he chucks it into the grass at his feet and goes to stand beside Cas.

"Okay so if Bell's death wasn't a ritual sacrifice maybe he angered the god or deity or whatever- maybe he was planning on cutting down this orchard and it pissed off whatever was living here- because I gotta say, this is definitely starting to feel like a weird coincidence," Dean says, motioning to the trees, with their blooming buds, and fruit and accelerated wacky seasonal changes. Cas nods thoughtfully before straightening himself up with a frown.

"It's a possibility, but it still doesn't explain the EMF spikes I got in the house before- old magic like that doesn't usually come up as a reading," Cas says, staring back at the house through the trees and Dean nods, thinking.

"Okay, you've got a point but- whatever it is, I think we can rule out a ghost. You know of anything that can cause spikes in electrical magnetic fields?" He asks, more to himself than anything, as he tries to remember his mom's own briefings on unusual supernatural creatures. There's something he's not remembering, some long-forgotten fact and it's bugging him. Before he can mention this to Cas, they both freeze at the sound of a snapping twig. Dean's hand is already going for his gun before Cas can try and force him back against a tree to hide. In the next moment, as the hidden figure emerges from behind the trees, Dean's gun is out and pointed directly at their heart.

There's a startled yelp, and then a thump as something heavy falls, and Dean's brain catches up with the scene laid out before them.

It's a woman- just a normal-looking woman, in work clothes, hands up and eyes wide with fear. At her feet is a wooden basket, apples tumbled out amongst the grass that had been collected within.

"I'm sorry- I didn't- Oh my God," she stutters out, and Dean quickly lowers his gun, putting a hand up to stop her from apologizing anymore. Beside him, Cas is clearly struggling to keep his amusement in check.

"No it's- you startled me ma'am- I'm uh- special Agent Buckly," Dean says, holstering his gun once more to pull out the fake badge from his pocket, and the woman slowly lowers her arms, still looking incredibly tense.

"I didn't think- I'm so sorry," she says, voice strained as she stays rigidly put and Dean looks to Cas who's still smiling politely, leaving Dean to clean up his mess.

"What exactly are you doing here ma'am?" Dean asks turning back to the woman, trying to sound as professional as possible as the woman's face turns a bright scarlet color.

"I can fruit and I- the owner of the house, Daniel, he'd always let me pick what I needed and I guess- since his accident I didn't even think- I'm sorry," she says again and Dean just about rolls his eyes, but instead he smiles encouragingly at her.

"Well you can take the apples you've collected but we'll need you to stay away for now- this house is under investigation at the moment," Dean says, and the neighbor finally seems to get herself unstuck as she quickly stoops to pick up her scattered apples.

"I swear I didn't know - I thought you guys were just some more contractors- they're always swarming this place," she says hastily scooping apples into her basket, but something she says makes Dean pause.

"Contractors?" He asks, and she pauses a moment, tipping her basket right side up, as she looks between him and Cas.

"Well yeah- I mean right up until Dan- uh fell- he had guys coming out to fix or remodel things all the time. In fact, I think he was planning on expanding his basement right before," she says slowly, and thoughtfully. "But that's just what he told me in passing, not that that matters- I'm just going to go now," she says again, standing with her basket of apples, and Dean nods to her. She gives a jilted wave, and then she's scuttling back through the trees leaving Dean and Cas to themselves once more.

"You don't think that has anything to do with his death do you?" Dean asks slowly, turning to look at Cas, who's frowning softly back at the house.

"There was a door before that I- well the EMF detector went crazy over it but I got distracted before I could go through," Cas says and Dean turns his own eyes towards the house now.

"So the basement- something’s in the basement," he asserts, and Cas nods slowly.

"It would explain the orchard I think- if it's under the house, in the ground," he asserts costively and Dean can feel his hopes rising as something finally seems to click into place.

"Alright okay, then the next stop is the basement,'' he says, pushing back through the trees. Cas doesn't seem to follow him at first, there's a pause before his footsteps pick up behind him, but Dean assumes he's just as relieved to have had this surprise breakthrough. Now that they have a firm location, actually detecting the thing will be about ten times easier.

Cas is quiet as they open up the side porch door, an easy lock to pick for Dean, and their steps echo in the large empty space. 

"It's this way," Cas points out a door leading out of the kitchen, and Dean nods his understanding, and just as a precaution pulls his gun free of its holster once more. Not that the silver bullets will do much against anything but a werewolf or a shapeshifter, but the security is nice enough on its own. 

The door at the end of the hall Cas leads him to doesn't look like anything special. Similar to the others along the walls, but Cas has gone so tense he wonders if there's something he's missing. 

"I can go down first," he says quietly, and Cas looks at him shocked for a moment, before nodding shortly at him and stepping out of the way of the blue painted door. Dean shrugs and then turns the knob.

As expected there is a set of old wooden stairs leading into the dark, and carefully Dean feels along the wall, taking a few steps down to find a light switch. At the bottom of the stairs, a single bulb flickers on, illuminating a dust-covered concrete floor. The dirt and dust is so thick that Dean can even spy several pairs of footprints in it below.

Carefully, with each step creaking worryingly under his feet, Dean makes his way down the stairs, squinting in the low light. He brushes beside the low hanging light bulb, and the light wavers around him, casting shadows around wildly. At first, Dean is certain there's nothing much else to see- until out of the corner of his eye he notices where exactly Daniel Bell had been planning on expanding his basement.

There’s exposed earth, showing through the cracked concrete wall, closer to underneath the stairs, which had apparently been harder to catch from the top of the steps. Before Dean can start worrying about what that means for the structural integrity of the house, he notices a shiny black sheen to the dirt scattered around him.

"Hey Cas, you know about any special type of minerals around this town?" He asks as he steps closer to get a better look. There's a strained noise from the top of the stairs, and he turns to see Cas still stuck in the doorway.

"I don't- why would I know about special mineral deposits in Kansas?" He asks, still not moving, and Dean shrugs before turning back to the wall.

"Nevermind it's just- the first down here- it's almost like when there are meteor impacts- the heat and the force cause the ground to coalesce. Like lightning on sand ya know?" He says scraping away at the wall until black shards of the stuff fall into his hand. He rolls it around in his palm, watching as it glints in the dim light.

" _ mhm _ ." 

"Hey, you scared of the dark or something? The steps aren't that rickety," Dean says, looking up the stairs, and Cas sends him a somewhat agitated look before, almost painfully it seems, he crosses the threshold. 

When nothing obviously bad happens, his shoulders seem to lower fractionally, and Dean gives him an odd look before looking around the basement for a spade of some kind. It seems to be the only place in the house not cleared of personal items, and as Cas finally makes it to the bottom of the steps Dean finds an old rusted garden trowel. 

"What's that for?" Cas asks as Dean makes his way back over to the wall.

"Whatever's in this dirt, Sam is probably going to want to take a look at it- I mean he's more of a nerd than just about anyone I know, so if something’s off about it he'll probably be able to tell us something,” Dean says, preparing to dig into a softer part of the exposed wall. Cas takes a step closer, as Dean taps along the wall, with a raised eyebrow.

"Is Sam a geologist?" He asks flatly, and Dean huffs a laugh under his breath.

"Maybe a supernatural one- I don't know, he studies weird crap all the time- _aha,_ " Dean stops as he comes across a looser patch of the stuff, and shoves the trowel in hard. 

As soon as the small shovel enters the wall, there's a loud thump of something heavy dropping, and it startles Dean into dropping the handle. He turns wildly around to see Cas, on the ground, chest rising shallowly.

" _ Cas _ ," Dean drops to his side immediately, struggling for a moment with Cas's dead weight as he tries to lift him half off the ground. The other man stays unresponsive, as Dean watches his eyes moving rapidly behind his closed lids. He shakes him gently, not sure what else to do to garner a reaction, to wake him from whatever's come over him.

"Cas come on man- what the Hell?" He says, pulling him closer to his chest, trying to support his neck and head as best he can. 

And then suddenly, as soon as Dean has seriously started to consider bridal carrying him up the steps, Cas's eyes fly open. He lets out a short gasp of air, sweat on his temple, looking panicked.

Dean quickly helps him sit up, as Cas shivers against his chest, his normally cool exterior gone in the face of whatever's overcome him.

"Cas buddy, what the Hell was that?" Dean asks, pulling back a little as Cas regains his breath, face still pained.

"I don't- we need to leave Dean- I can't stand," Cas gasps out, his hand gripping at Dean's jacket tightly like a lifeline.

"Right okay- alright, just, put your arm over me and I'll get you out of here," Dean says, shifting so that he can get Cas kneeling, prepping to lift him up. 

It's a difficult process, as Cas slips in and out of a semi-conscious state, gripping at his head as if it was splitting open. He's muttering under breath halfway out the front door, things that Dean can't parse- and he's not sure they're even English.

He lays Cas in the back of the Impala, removing his canvas jacket to stuff it under Cas's had.

"Okay- Jesus- Jess is gonna kill me," he mutters, tripping in his haste to get back to the front seat.

As soon as he slides in, hand already reaching for the key, he hears Cas mutter one last thing before he's out.

"I'm fairly certain I'm the one she'll be murdering."


	10. Chapter 10

**(✵Cas✵)**

Cas is standing in an empty field, the wind barely there against him, brushing his hair softly to and fro. The sky is an inky black, the stars like pinholes in the dark. There is peace here, on this quiet night. Cas does not know what he is doing here.

He can not move from the spot, feet sunken in the muddy Earth, in knee-length grass, that swishes uncomfortably across his skin. All he can do is peer up and up into the endless blackened night.

There is a flash, and if Cas could regain control of his body he would look away, cover his eyes from the sight. But he watches fully, as the sky breaks, shattering into crystalline pieces. There is no noise as this happens, a great nothing as the stars collapse into this thing- this  _ beast _ , that is hanging in the sky. And it is falling, falling directly towards him, funneling itself down to something purer, more whole. 

Castiel wants to scream, but he no longer has a throat to do so with. He does not have a body. He is this thing, as it crashes, and tumbles and falls bodily to the earth. And-

And then all at once, the grass and the wind, and leaves in the forest just beyond become real again, and that sky is nothing more than a decent night for stargazing. And Castiel is himself, with scarred hands, and aching joints and a beating heart. But something has fallen here, something ancient, something incomprehensible but familiar. Something-

"Cas-!"

Cas startles awake, as a hand at his shoulder grips him violently, and he rocks upward, head throbbing. He's back in the motel now- somehow. Hadn't he been at Bell's house just a moment ago? 

Jess is hovering over him, halfway between murderous and worried, and then it comes back to him, his second attack, in the house's basement. Flashes of Dean helping him stumble up the stairs. 

Dean is there too, not quite as close as Jess, hovering anxiously, as Cas locks eyes with him.

"How long have I-?"

"Just about a half an hour, Jess maybe give him some space?" Dean says, immediately catching on to Cas's question, but Jess sends him back a venomous look.

"I’ll give him space when he tells me what the Hell happened to him," she hisses, letting go of his shoulder but not moving an inch from his side. Cas looks to Dean again, but this time it's to no avail, apparently he's not willing to step in front of Jess again. 

With a sigh, Cas leans back against the headboard of the motel bed and pinches the bridge of his nose. His headache is much worse this time, creeping down his spine, for an all-over ache.

"The last time I was at the house- something similar happened. I suppose I was stupid enough to think it wouldn’t become worse. I don’t know what it is but, there's this  _ thing _ , under the house. I can't explain it, but I’ve seen it. It-" Cas presses his palm to his forehead, trying to dredge up the visions again, but the base of his skull throbs painfully, and he shakes his head with a sigh.

"I can't explain it better. I'm sorry," he continues wearily, and Jess huffs an angry breath.

"So you trying to be more careful- you looking after yourself, it was just bullshit? How am I supposed to help you if you don't tell me anything, you asshole!" Jess snaps, turning sharply away from the bed, and Cas sees Dean wince out of the corner of his eye.

"I don't know how to explain it to myself let alone you, I don't know what's going on," Cas says miserably, but Jess just shakes her head, mouth pinched in a serious line.

Suddenly without warning, she's pushing past Dean, past Sam, who's been obviously trying to stay out of the whole affair more than his own brother, and finally towards the motel room exit. Cas pushes forward anxiously ignoring the swell of nausea the fast movement causes in him.

"Where are you going?” He asks tightly, and Jess looks around to glare at him, hand on the doorknob.

"I don't trust myself right now not to kick your ass, so I'm leaving for-  _ somewhere _ ,” Jess motions vaguely and Cas gives her a strained look of worry.

"I know you're angry but you shouldn't go out alone- we still don't know what, besides the house, is messing with us," Cas says, hoping he's broached her more logical side. She steams for a moment at the doorway, and after a second of consideration marches back in. She stops at Sam.

"I won't be alone, Sam's coming with me," she says, turning her gaze back to Cas with a harsh glare, knowing full well there's nothing else Cas can argue for.

"I am-?" Sam asks, and when Jess grabs his forearm and starts marching him towards the door he repeats "I am- uh see you, Dean," before the door slams behind them. 

Cas stares forlornly at the closed door, before sliding back down the bed with a sigh.

There's a creak of the bedsprings at the foot of the bed and he peers up to see Dean, anxiously playing with the frayed edges of the holes in his jeans.

"You don't need to look like a kicked puppy, none of that was your fault," Cas says warily, and Dean looks up startled.

"Oh uh- no I just- you scared me, man. Back at the house. I think something I did may have uh- triggered it? I don't know, I’ve never heard of anything like this,” Dean says with a sigh running his hand down his face. Cas shifts back up onto his elbows and gives Dean a hard considering look.

"That I can assure you was not your fault either- I should have been wearier as of my last visit but- Jess is right, I can't seem to stop myself from pushing over the edge," Cas says quietly, and Dean looks at him, appearing softer in the dim light of the motel.

When Cas finally thinks he’s going to say something, Dean turns away, face unreadable. 

"How long do you think she'll be gone?" Dean asks, tone lighter and Cas just shrugs.

"At the very least by tomorrow morning- she's not above using my credit card to get herself a new room," Cas says, letting his head flop down onto the droopy pillow of the motel beds.

“Good thing it's a fraudulent card then," Dean says, and Cas cracks a smile at him.

"Did Sam or Jess mention any breakthroughs in research while we were gone?" Cas asks hopefully, as a cozy silence settles in the room. Dean shakes his head, finally pushing away from the bed to walk over to the abandoned laptop station.

"No time with you pulling an Exorcist on us there.”

“I apologize for any head-spinning that may have occurred,” Cas says dryly, and instead of Dean smiling, his countenance becomes serious again.

“No, no head-spinning, but Cas- before, you were saying stuff, while we were driving back, and you weren’t conscious but, whatever you were muttering it wasn’t in English. Or Latin for that matter,” Dean says with a shrug, and Cas blinks back at him in surprise.

"Well I- I'm sorry I don't remember much of anything," Cas says quietly, and Dean looks at him curiously for a moment, before nodding his head once.

"I guess we're done with case stuff for the night anyway, I should let you rest," Dean says cautiously, motioning his head in the direction of the door, and Cas immediately feels a pang of disappointment run through him.

"You don't have to- I mean we probably shouldn't split up either," Cas says weakly, and Dean looks at him in surprise, and then a small smile slips onto his face.

"No- yeah, you're probably right. I'll just- sit then," Dean sits down at the dining set, his awkwardness from just moments ago evaporating. As soon as they're both settled, however, Cas realizes he has nothing but case-related things to talk about. 

What did normal people normally talk about?

"So you and Jess-" 

"So how long have you-"

They both stop and look at each other in surprise, Cas's mouth falling shut at the same time as Dean's. He blinks a couple of times before prompting Dean again.

"We- Me and Jess?" He asks, and Dean's eyes widen minutely as his cheeks color slightly.

"I uh- I was just wondering how long you two have been working together," Dean says, his discomfort obvious as he asks, and Cas squints at him in confusion.

"When I was five my parents were killed in a fluke demon attack. Jessica's father- Stephen Moore- had been working the case at the time and he, well he took me in. I didn't have anybody else. So, I've known Jess practically my whole life," Cas says and is surprised to see some sort of relief on Dean's face when he finishes.

"So you two aren’t- you know, together."

Cas can only stare at him for a moment, the simple idea of it too bizarre for him to even wrap his mind around.

"Jess is- she's my  _ sister _ , she's the only family I have left now. Besides she wouldn't even be my type," Cas lets slip at the end, and he barely has time to curse himself before Dean is asking-

"And what is your type?"

"Not women," he says cooly, daring Dean to say anything more. The truth of the matter is, Cas rarely has time to think about romance, not with the constant traveling, not with the job. Stephen hadn't cared who Cas went home with as long as he was back soon enough to finish a case. And of course, Jess had always been a little too supportive at times. But other hunters were always a toss-up.

"Oh," Dean breathes out, and Cas isn't sure, but he's almost certain he sees Dean's eyes flick down to his mouth. A thrill of panic rushes through him at that and he blurts out his own question from earlier.

"And how long have you and Sam been hunting?"

Dean looks startled for a moment, clearly thrown by the change in subject, and he rubs at the back of his neck nervously before answering.

"We've known about the life for years, I mean since we were kids but uh- actually physically hunting. About a day and a half," Dean says carefully, and Cas's eyes widen in shock.

"You mean to tell me, you came as my backup to the house, and you've never  _ hunted _ before?" Cas asks sharply, and Dean cringes for a moment.

"It's difficult to explain, but I am weapons trained, so is Sam, we've just never... hunted," Dean says, running a hand down his face in agitation, and Cas shakes his head bewildered.

"How is that possible?” He asks, and Dean pauses for a long-drawn-out moment, before letting out a muttered curse under his breath.

"Sam'll probably kill me for this but- what the Hell. My brother and I- our whole family actually, we're a part of this group. The Men of Letters, you uh, you ever heard of it?” Dean asks tentatively, and Cas shakes his head, eyebrows still raised in confusion.

"Right well, we don't exactly advertise. My mom's been trying to get more hunters involved but well- not the point. A lot of our work is academically based, it's an alternative way to hunt I guess. We still have field agents, but Sam and I were never really in the position to do it ourselves," Dean says with a shrug, watching Cas carefully. He's not sure what to think of it, to be honest.

"But you're here now because-?" He asks slowly, and Dean lets out a defeated sigh.

"It was just supposed to be a salt and burn, something simple where I could test it out," Dean says, and the longer he talks the more pained he looks, and Cas is hoping he already understands how stupid the sentiment sounds

"Yes, well, hunting isn't ever as simple as you want it to be. Trust me," Cas says flatly, and Dean nods morosely.

"Yeah, I get that- but I think I get what my mom's been fighting for. We should've never separated from the hunting community. The resources the bunker has, we shouldn’t just be hoarding them like we have," Dean sighs, and with that, he stands from the table, now obviously too tense to just sit. 

"Well I'm glad our tragic way of life has been an inspiration," Cas says, and swings his legs over the bed, testing the strength of them cautiously. Nausea still rolls through him but he stands to meet Dean head-on.

"No, Cas, that's not what I- Listen, I get now that this was stupid, but now that we know each other, well I know now that I can help. And I want to help, because obviously, this isn't my strong suit," Dean motions around, and Cas rolls his eyes, unable to stay angry.

"As long as those resources of yours are being put to use for this case, I don't really think I have anything to hold against you," Cas says with a sigh, and Dean finally cracks a smile. 

"Yeah, no, I've got someone on it right now. She should be calling back soon, hopefully," Dean says, the tension easing from his shoulders now, and Cas can't help but smile at him fondly.

"After this- what do you think you'll do? Hunt more or-?" Cas asks, crossing his arms, and Dean shrugs, face falling slightly.

"I think- I think I want to help people like you Cas- you know when they need my help. We're not the only ones deserving of a safe place to stay and work," Dean says softly, and Cas nods, thinking suddenly of Jess's recent nudging about leaving the life. It sounds like a nice compromise, this Men of Letters.

"Well, I don't think that sounds so bad," Cas says, carefully, looking up at Dean thoughtfully and Dean smiles gently at him for a moment. A quiet settles over them, as they stand just feet apart, and Cas almost thinks something is going to happen, that maybe they're leaning towards each other- when Dean lets out a cough, and turns his head away.

"You know I'm starved. I think I might just go pick us up something- I don't think a small trip to the diner should be too dangerous," Dean says quickly, taking a step back, and Cas blinks at him before nodding his head.

"No that should be- that should be fine," he says quietly, and Dean nods quickly, before moving back even further to grab his jacket and wallet.

“Right, I’ll uh- yeah,” Dean says, nodding awkwardly, before pulling open the door and exiting out into the darkened parking lot. Cas stands still for a moment, letting his arms drop to his sides. 

With a shake of his head, he crosses back to the bed, sitting down on the edge heavily, trying to pull himself back from- whatever Dean was doing to him. This was a case, an unusual, and altogether confusing case, but it was still  _ work _ . None of them had time to flirt or- or whatever.

"Jesus, you're more of a stick in the mud than I remember," Cas jumps from the bed, hand already reaching for his gun before he realizes it's across the room at that very moment. Behind him, leaning casually against the closed door, is the same man Cas had seen yesterday across the street. The same man who'd vanished in just seconds. 

"What do you want with me?" Cas asks harshly, easing back slowly, as far as he can, as the other man watches him lazily.

"All I want Cassie, is for you to get the hell outta dodge. You would think you'd have gotten the hint already," the man says, finally pushing away from the wall to casually look around the cramped motel room. He looks less than impressed and Cas watches him pass the gun warily.

"Okay- you want us gone, why?" Cas questions and the other man gives an over-the-top sigh.

"If I could tell you that, I wouldn't really need to be here," he says like Cas is somehow getting on his nerves. Cas glares at him, forgetting for a moment that this is the thing that’s been bending  _ reality  _ to its will.

"So what can you tell me, if you seem so keen on me leaving? What are you?" 

"Can't tell you that either, but friends call me Gabe, hope that helps," Gabe smiles beatifically at him before swiping the TV remote off of the bedside table. Cas watches him in bewilderment as he flips the TV on.

"That doesn't, actually," Cas says, and Gabe gives him a look of exasperation, as he begins to change the channels intermittently.

"Okay then, this might get your attention," the TV's signal suddenly sharpens, and the image on the screen is no low-grade cable show Cas has ever seen. The volume is off, but he can see two figures arguing; A young girl, maybe twelve or so, and an older man. Cas is about to ask why he's being shown this when the man's eyes flick an inhuman yellow. 

Demons.

"Why-?" Cas asks, stilted, as he tries to place their location. It's dark, industrial-looking, possibly an abandoned factory, or storage facility. Always common haunts of demons for their seclusion.

"Those two- are bad news, can't say why, but they're on their way to your little crime scene, for, well-  _ confidential reasons _ . It was a minion of  _ theirs  _ that got good ol’ Daniel Bell dead and let me tell ya, I tried to make it as clean a scene as possible but hunters are annoyingly tenacious creatures. What I’m getting at here, Cassie, is that you and your little friends, do  _ not  _ want to be around when they finally get their heads out of their asses." The TV flashes off, and Cas turns back to Gabe with a frown.

"Why put all this effort into protecting us,  _ warning us _ . What's in it for you?" He prods, and Gabe's expression suddenly sobers.

"I made a promise a long time ago Castiel, and while I'’d love nothing more than to stay off the radar, this is something I'm trying not to fuck up. So pack up, and skedaddle.  _ Please _ ," Gabe says, eyeing Cas seriously, and he swallows anxiously, trying to find some reason to disagree.

"I'll- talk with my partners," Cas says quietly, and Gabe pauses, seeming to weigh the sincerity in this statement. Cas keeps his expression as neutral as possible, his heart rate steady. And then finally, Gabe lets out a contented sigh.

"Alright, well, I gotta dash. Don't die in the meantime," He says, and then with a wave he’s gone, disappeared in less than a blink of an eye. Cas runs a hand down his face, trying to collect his now racing thoughts.

Cas has dealt with demons before. They’re nasty but not impossible to beat- but if something like Gabe is warning them away-

The door to the room opens, and Cas, despite himself, jumps in surprise. Dean pushes through the door arms laden with takeaway bags and sends him a sheepish grin. 

"I've got good news Cas- I think I finally figured out what's going on here- or part of it," Dean says, kicking the door closed behind him as he unloads their food. Cas can't help but stare at him as he does so, not sure where to even begin.

"I think I have some news as well," he says carefully and Dean looks up with a grin.

"Good, then we can talk over dinner. Have a seat."


	11. Chapter 11

**(✵Dean✵)**

Okay, so maybe Dean had been running away when he'd gone to get dinner. And yes, he had rationalized that neither he nor Cas had the time to be distracted at the moment. It had nothing to do with the fact Dean was apparently someone who just ran away from things now. Like his grandad's offer and the hot, available and apparently-into-dudes hunter. 

At least he's not allowed to deliberate on his own failings for long, as he's waiting for his and Cas's dinner to be ready. He gets the call back from Charlie, and things almost start to look up.

"What do you mean, miracle?" Cas asks him, sitting tensely across the table.

"I mean that in 1973, the land where Bell's farmhouse stands, was the ground zero of an angelic miracle," Dean says casually, mouth half full of a bite of his burger. Cas just raises his eyebrow at him and he swallows self-consciously.

"Let's just say I believed in angels,  _ which I don't _ , how would you even track that sort of thing?" 

"The bunker’s equipped for just about anything man, I told you. Miracles like that only happen like every other century but they give off a super unique signal, like light wavelengths and- well Sam could probably explain it better. But yeah, Angels, definitely real," Dean says picking up a fry to drag through leftover ketchup, and Cas frowns thoughtfully.

"Then they're dicks," Cas says plainly, and Dean can't help but laugh.

"Yeah, no one said they weren't. They're just, weird unknowable creatures, it's easier to think of them that way than in like- a religious studies manner. Besides no one has actually seen one since, I think, 1901? Something like that," Dean says with a shrug, and Cas looks at him clearly unbelieving.

"And this miracle, what was it? What does it have to do with the house?" He asks, and Dean could almost swear he looks nervous.

"That's the clincher. Usually the Men of Letters would have sent someone out to check it out, but something clearly got overlooked, there's no file on it beyond the initial detection- but I do think it explains the weird residue I found in the basement, and the apple trees," Dean says, and instead of the look of relief of having figured something out Dean’s expecting, Cas's expression shutters.

"Dean, there's something else we need to discuss," he says, voice tense, and Dean feels something heavy settle in the room around them.

"Yeah, you said, I'm guessing it's not- good," Dean says and Cas nods at him in affirmation.

"I was visited by, well I'm not sure  _ what _ he was, or is, but he said his name was Gabe. He told me that there are demons on their way to Good Intent," Cas says, faltering slightly at each new bit of information, and it's Dean's turn now to look back in shock.

"Okay, back up a little bit- Gabe is who, exactly?" Dean asks, and Cas sighs, running a hand down his face like he himself is not sure where to begin.

"He's what was trying to chase Jess and me out of town- I saw him, yesterday, and I hardly thought anything of it until-"

"He appeared in the motel miraculously," Dean says for him, and Cas nods.

"He said the demons were coming for the house, that one of their minions killed Daniel Bell. And if, as you said, the house is the site of an angelic miracle-"

"We're in for some trouble. And why was uh- Gabe, telling you any of this?" Dean asks, and Cas lets out a sigh of exasperation.

" _ That _ , he was also unwilling to divulge, but he said it was for a promise of some kind but to who or why I don't know. The whole interaction was bizarre, to say the least, but the message was clear, he wants us gone," Cas says finally, and Dean feels his heart jump at even the notion of leaving  _ now _ .

"You're not actually going to skip town though, right? If those demons get ahold of something like a miracle who knows what they'll be able to accomplish," Dean voices his concern hastily, and Cas gives a flat look in return.

"No Dean, I have no intention of leaving, not with the stakes so high,” Cas assures, and Dean lets a relieved smile flit on to his face.

“Well good, that’s good,” he replies with a shrug, and it looks like Cas is close to rolling his eyes fondly.

“This does mean we have to come up with a way to protect the farmhouse. Now how I’ll be able to manage this without passing out, I’m not sure, but-”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it man, don’t forget you’ve got us backing you up,” Dean cuts him off, and Cas tilts his head in concession, before he seems to be reminded of something.

“Speaking of  _ us _ , I should give Jess a call,” he says, getting up to go grab his phone, his takeout burger still untouched. As Cas dials Jess a thought strikes Dean suddenly.

"Hey, you don't think Gabe could be uh- Gabriel, right?" Dean says, leaning away from the table to look over at Cas. Cas raises an eyebrow at him, phone held tight to his ear as the line rings out.

" _ The Archangel? _ You think I was visited by the Archangel Gabriel," he intones skeptically, but Dean waves the questioning look away as he continues. 

"It makes a weird amount of sense though if you think about it. He was God's messenger and he came to warn you, and he'd have enough power to mess with a couple of humans easily, and with the miracle here- all of it together, it paints the complete picture."

"Frankly Dean, I don't have the ability to entertain that thought right now- Jess isn't picking up her phone," he says bringing the mobile device away from his ear, and it’s then that Dean remembers a very important bit of information he’d lost with everything else they’d discussed.

"Oh- oh yeah that's not... gonna work.”

"What do you mean, did you see her?" Cas asks, pocketing his phone as he comes to sit down again, and Dean tries to keep from cringing.

"Thankfully, no, but uh- I did hear her, and my brother, in your motel room, with the lights off-"

"No- please don't finish that," Cas says quickly, face twisted in disgust as he motions with both hands for Dean to stop. 

“Hey- I was the one who almost walked in on it! I guess she just had very specific ideas for letting off steam,” he shivers again remembering. He had been worried someone had broken into Cas and Jess’s room, and then when he’d actually heard what was going on- his brother owed him money for the future therapy bills.   


“ _ Dean _ ,” Cas says harshly, and Dean makes a zipping motion over his mouth.

“Right, shutting up.”

“So- we wait,” Cas says after a moment, and Dean shrugs.

“A couple more hours at least- just to be sure,” he replies, and Cas does his best to look like he’s about to lose his lunch.

“ _ Mhmm _ .”

“You should rest though, while you can- you can go ahead and take my bed,” Dean says, nodding his head towards the bed, and Cas doesn’t even pretend to argue before saying-

“Thank you, Dean.”

“No problem man. We’ll- we’ll figure this out, I have a feeling it’s gonna turn out all right,” Dean says with a half-hearted smile, and Cas lets out a small humorless laugh.

“I aspire to reach those levels of optimism. I’ll just go wash up first,” Cas says, hooking his thumb over his shoulder, and Dean nods. 

“Sure yeah, I’ll hit the lights.” 

“Goodnight Dean,” Cas says, with a small, soft smile that Dean can’t help but return.

“Goodnight Cas.”


	12. Chapter 12

**(✵Cas✵)**

Cas sleeps soundly that night, free from sweat-soaked nightmares, and odd visions. It's almost weird to awaken to weak sunlight pouring through the gaps in the curtains, having slept through a consecutive six hours. He blinks awake slowly, stretching up and out of bed, feeling less like he'd been run over than the evening before, which he supposes is another plus. The room is empty, the other twin bed rumpled but devoid of life and Cas has to tell himself not to panic right away. 

When he finds the note on the bedside table, in blockish neat text, his heart rate eases.

Dean had gone for coffee and breakfast. Nothing to worry about. 

He runs a hand down his jaw, feeling prickly stubble across his jaw, and sighs, realizing this still isn't his motel room, and his toiletries are still at the bottom of his duffel bag two doors over. He thinks for a moment of leaving a note of his own, just in case Dean gets back in the short time frame of him going to retrieve his stuff, and thinks better of it. It feels like a little too much somehow. 

Sending up a half-hearted prayer to the maybe real angels, Cas shimmies back into his crumpled pants on the floor and shoves on his jacket before stepping out into the chill early morning air. Condensation clings to his skin, making him shiver, and he quickly turns right, heading straight for room 14.

He knocks first, trying to squint through the closed curtains, but there's nothing but silence that greets him. Feeling a little more childish than normal, Cas brings his fist down harder, knowing for a fact Jess has always been a deep sleeper. 

There's a quiet yelp from inside, and the soft thud of someone hitting the floor, and Cas tries his best not to smile when Jess opens the door, hair askew, looking less righteously angry and more highly irritated. He can work with highly irritated at least.

"I came for my duffel," he says blithely, and Jess shoots him a half-awake glare, before opening the door wider. His prayers apparently answered, the room is empty save the two of them. 

He still does his best to keep his eyes averted from the beds, however.

He grabs his duffel quickly, finding it still tucked into the corner next to the TV, and then turns to Jess, who is still blinking awake grumpily.

"I assume Sam went for coffee," he says cheerfully, and Jess's head immediately falls as she lets out a groan of dismay.

"I don't want to talk about it," she grumbles, which takes Cas by surprise.

"Sam's very nice from what I've seen, did he- do something?" he asks, cautiously, and Jess looks up immediately shaking her head.

"No, nothing like that I just- I don't want you teasing me about it," she says plaintively, and Cas blinks at her for a moment before laughing. Jess's face goes red, but he can't help himself now.

" _ Stop- _ I feel horrible. He probably thinks I was using him or something!” Jess despairs, and Cas lets out another unbelieving laugh. 

"Jess, I sincerely doubt Sam believes you were using him. I think anyone with eyes could tell you two had a mutual- Er, attraction," Cas fumbles at the end, and Jess grimaces at him slightly.

"Okay now I just want you to stop talking about it but- yeah, okay, maybe I'm just a little freaked- I haven't exactly had time to- well neither of us has, you know," she says with a sigh, dropping her head into her hands as she takes a seat o the bed. With a slight internal sigh, Cas drops his duffel and goes to sit next to her.

"I think- I think you're making it more complicated than it needs to be," he says, at first uncertain, but when Jess gives him a raised eyebrow through the gaps in her fingers he feels more sure.

"He knows about the life, he's a hunter- well, mostly- but if you like him, and he likes you which he very obviously does, Then I don't think you need to freak, I think you should just," Cas pauses, and unbidden the image of Dean the night before, so close, comes to his mind. "Just let it happen," he finishes, and Jess pauses for a moment, still hunched over herself dejectedly. Finally, she lets out a long sigh, dragging her hands down her face and then letting them fall into her lap.

"I hate when you give stupidly sage advice. It shouldn’t actually be allowed from someone who throws themself into danger so often," she says with a slight groan, and Cas takes the jab with grace. She lets her head rest on his shoulder for a moment, and they sit in peaceful quiet for a time. 

That is, until Sam walks through the door with a carrier of coffee. His eyes widen when he catches sight of Cas, and he nearly backs up through the doorway before Cas motions him back in with a half-smile.

"I was just collecting my things Sam, I'm sure Jess doesn't want her coffee to run away with you," he says, standing, patting Jess's shoulder as he does so. She gives a slightly panicked look before he's grabbing his duffel bag again and heading for the door. He pauses at the threshold as Sam holds it open for him and he turns to address them both.

"I should mention that Dean and I uncovered some incredibly important information relating to the case, last night. I suggest we meet in fifteen- after I've had my coffee of course," Cas says, and Jess gives him a look of bewilderment before he's striding out the door.

"Have a good time," he calls back over his shoulder, just to hear Jess give a small cry of agitation. 

He finds Dean in the room when he arrives back and is thankful to see a set of their own coffees on display at the small dining table. Dean looks up in tense surprise when the door opens, but quickly relaxes when he sees who it is.

"Sorry I took so long, I saw Sam at the diner and I briefed him a bit on what we learned last night. Not all of it, but the important stuff," Dean says nodding his head towards the coffee for Cas to come get. 

"Mhhmm, I told them we'd meet together again in fifteen minutes,  _ after  _ coffee."

"Sounds good. How are you feeling this morning?" Dean asks casually as he takes a sip of his coffee, and Cas sighs as he takes a seat to grab his own cup.

"You mean do I feel like I'm on the verge of collapse? No, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't be worried. I'd say leave me behind, except-"

"Except there's no way you'd let Jess go along with us to face two apparently supercharged demons?" Dean asks with a raised eyebrow and almost smirk, and Cas tilts his head in agreement. The coffee is scalding, but instead of waiting, Cas lets the burn of it warm him, numbing his mouth in the process. Dean doesn't say a word, but Cas can tell there is a concerning air about him now. He finishes the cup in less than a minute, placing the cup down with a sigh and standing as Dean watches.

"I'm going to shave, don't wait up for me if Sam and Jess come over sooner than expected," he says with a nod, and Dean gives him a little wave to go ahead.

He drags his entire duffel bag into the bathroom to change once he's washed and shaved his face. The mirror in this bathroom is broken in the corner, minuscule fractures creeping towards the center, and Cas follows them with his eyes as he arranges his shaving kit on the sink. The images he'd seen just yesterday, the thing that had broken the sky, it had split the sky as easily as the damage done to this mirror. He blinks slowly at it, reaching forward to run his fingertips along the cracks. He hisses in surprise when one of the jagged edges cuts his pointer finger, and he draws back cradling his hand to his chest, as a pinprick of blood spurts up. 

He came here to shave- he- he came here to shave and get dressed. He closes his eyes briefly, letting the pain in his hand settle him, anchor him back from the vision the-

The memory.

Cas lets himself go on autopilot, hating the idea building within his mind. He applies the shaving cream thoughtfully, and then scrapes it away, cautious of his tender skin, as he draws the blade across his cheeks.

He turns away from the broken mirror when he's done, his own sad eyes no longer reflected back at him as he changes.

He is Castiel James Novak. He is changing into a dark blue t-shirt and muted green flannel and jeans. He is in a hotel bathroom. He is human.

He is human.

Sam and Jess are in the room when he steps back out, and the conversation pauses fractionally when he enters, Dean turning to look at him with seeming disquiet. 

"I shouldn't have turned my phone off last night Cas, I'm sorry," Jess says as soon as she sees him, and he shakes his head quickly as he shuts the bathroom door behind him.

"It was fine, nothing dangerous happened," he said carefully, and Jess rolls her eyes so heavily, all he can see are the whites of her eyes for a moment. 

"No, nothing happened, except you were visited by some guy with the ability to teleport and who knows what else. It could have been a lot worse," she says with a huff, and Cas shrugs as he joins the group fully, stepping up behind Dean's seat.

"Well, what if's don't matter now. Those demons could be headed here at any time, we need to make sure the house is secure before- whenever that is," Cas says, waving vaguely and the rest of the group look at him with somber faces.

"There are the usual traps that we can set; Salt the windows and doors, hide demon traps under rugs and on the ceilings, but I hardly think they’ll hold big-league demons for long," Sam says with a frown and Dean nods thoughtfully.

"I can always give Charlie a call, see if she can fax us more wards on the down-low," he pipes up, already reaching for his phone.

"And there is the slight problem of well, me," Cas says, and Jess shoots him a glare.

"You work on the outside of the house, you don't have to get near the basement," she says tightly, and Cas can feel himself becoming resistant to the idea already. “I just wish we knew why this was happening. I don't know what we're missing here," he sighs tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose, but startles slightly when he feels a hand on his arm. Dean's looking up at him, somber but soft, and it makes something flutter in Cas's chest.

"One step at a time man. We handle the demons, and then we have all the time in the world to figure out the rest," he says calmly, and somehow Cas can feel the built up tension in his shoulders lessen slightly.

"Alright. You're right, Sam, Jess, and I can head out to the house, while you get more info from Charlie, and we can start in on some of the easier work," he says coming back to himself and the rest of the group nods along in agreement.

"Sounds like a plan- I'll see you guys in a bit," Dean says, standing and already flipping open his phone to call his contact from the Men of Letters bunker.

**⛥⛧⛥**

They pick up five cans of spray paint and industrial bags of salt from the local hardware store on their way out to the house. It's not as awkward as Cas assumed it would be, sitting in the backseat as Sam and Jess chat idly upfront. Jess has seemingly overcome her panic from this morning, as she laughs at some inconspicuous thing Sam says softly upfront, and Cas can’t help but smile at the two of them. Despite the danger they are driving into, despite the fact none of them may make it out of this encounter alive, he knows that Jess deserves this small respite.

He knows that if they make it out of this, he won't be able to hold onto her as he has so far.

He doesn't know what that means for him, but he doesn't feel scared. It feels- right. 

When they finally do pull up to the drive, Cas is immediately tasked with salting the doorways from the outside, as Jess very nearly forbids him from stepping through the threshold of the house. Normally he would find something to snap at her about but he knows quite clearly in this instance he is a hindrance to the case.

The work goes quickly, as easy as it is, and he watches idly as Sam and Jess move through the house, passing windows he can see through. There is nothing else for him to do but wait for Dean to arrive.

He is tense the entire wait, prepared for the second when the searing pain starts up again. But there is nothing, just the normal aches and pains from a life of hunting.

Finally after the sun has reached its peak, and is now slowly making its hours long descent, the Impala appears along the dusty gravel road, and already impatient, Cas moves from the porch to wait in the grass of the lawn, as Dean pulls closer.

When Dean opens the door he's clutching a decently sized stack of papers, and Cas gives him a questioning thumbs up that's returned quickly in affirmation.

"Charlie came through, we've got options galore. Lets just hope one of us is a decent enough artist to pull them off correctly," Dean says, as he shuts the car door behind him. Cas reaches for some of the papers to look them over and Dean hands them over willingly.

"I'm decent enough at mimicry, although if you want me to paint you a portrait I'm afraid you'll be sorely disappointed," Cas says and Dean laughs softly.

"They not letting you in?" He asks after a moment of Cas flipping through the many wards Dean's friend had been able to pull. He shakes his head as he looks up.

"Not that I can blame them, you did have to carry me out last time," he says matter of factly, and Dean shrugs in acquiescence.

"Well some of these can go on the outside anyway. I'll take in some to Sam and Jess, and then I’ll come back out to help you after," Dean says, grabbing back a few of the sheets of paper from Cas. 

"I'll start on the left side of the house," Cas informs him with a small smile, before Dean gives a small salute in return and then jogs off for the house. 

The sigils are complicated messes of circles and crosses, and even after years of painstakingly painting exact demon traps and wards, these still take more concentration than Castiel is used to. It is easy however to lose himself in the work, his mind blank besides the work ahead of him. 

When Dean finally does find him again, Cas almost startles. Almost.

"Looking good there Cas," Dean says, a smile already on his lips as he rounds the bend of the house, and all Cas can do is shrug in reply as he feels a small flush creep up his neck.

“Sam and Jess are making good progress too, I'd say by late afternoon or early evening we'll have this place more heavily guarded than Fort Knox," Dean says, coming to stand beside him, his own can of spray paint in hand. He stoops to grab one of the yet to be completed ward papers from the ground and looks around for a spot to start in on it.

"Let's just hope it's enough," he says quietly, and Dean huffs out a laugh.

"Dude we have got to work on your positive thinking skills, this is almost more warding than the bunker has. No demon is getting past that door," Dean says, side eyeing Cas as he begins to make wide strokes with the spray paint. Cas can't help but roll his eyes, at the thought.

"It's not negative, it's realistic. You've never faced demons before- they’re cunning. They're  _ used _ to looking for loopholes," Cas says sternly, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Dean's smile drop.

"I’m sorry, I forgot you said-"

"It wasn’t just my parents, Dean. Jess’s father was also killed by demons.”

“Cas-”

“I’d broken my arm on a previous hunt, and instead of waiting, instead of letting me help him, he decided to take the possession case anyway. It was supposed to be simple,” Cas chuckles humorlessly, repeating Dean’s previous sentiment, “But the demon had a partner. They got the jump on him, and he died. I got the news from a phone call with the local hospital.”

There is a tense silence between them when Cas finishes, and he's worried for a moment he'd divulged too much, been too harsh. But Dean finally clears his throat, and Cas turns away from his half done ward to look at him.

"I shouldn't have- I’m sorry, I was being stupid," he mutters, keeping his own eyes glued to his work on the wall, and Cas immediately feels like kicking himself.

"That wasn't meant to be disheartening to you Dean, but I need you to understand the sacrifice you might be making here. I can't promise that we'll all make it out alive," he says carefully, staring intently at Dean until he looks back. He tries to push all that he's thinking and feeling into that look, and for a moment he's almost sure Dean understands.

"Well, if you're trying to scare us off, it's not happening. We don’t leave people behind. I wouldn't leave you behind," Dean says finally, voice firm, and it makes Cas want to drive him miles and miles away from this place just to keep him safe. He's not sure yet if it was a tragedy that they'd only met so recently.

How much time did they have left?

"Dean-"

"Listen, Cas, I know we have to be realistic, I get that but on the off chance we do survive, I want you and Jess to come back to the Men of Letters with us," Dean says suddenly, earnest and hopeful, and Cas blinks back at him in shock.

"What would we even do?" he asks breathlessly, but Dean doesn't seem deterred.

"You’d work with us. Cas, I've been running away from something for a while and I'm still not sure I’m making the right call here, but I do know things need to change and I think- I think you and Jess are the first step," he says, voice lower, softer as he takes a few steady steps toward Cas. Their fingers are almost brushing once he stops, and there is a question in his eyes Cas desperately wants to say yes to.

"I- you'll let me think about it?" He asks and Dean nods the slightest bit, but he does not move away.

"Cas, I-"

Dean is cut off by the sound of a slamming car door, and they both swivel towards the sound. 

"Maybe it was Sam and Jess," Cas says hopefully, looking to Dean as a sleight undercurrent of panic begins to spike in Cas's chest. 

"I don't think demons drive cars, at least," Dean whispers back, and Cas tilts his head in concession.

"It might be more alarming to see two of us sneaking around- I’ll go check it out alone," Cas says, and before Dean can argue with that logic, Cas has pulled away from their intimate bubble, away from their hope heightening conversation.

When Cas rounds the corner of the house, he is nearly stopped dead in his tracks from surprise.

Their relator from their first day in Good Intent, looking just as kempt and pampered as before, is standing in the driveway, her hands behind her back, as if she was waiting for him.

"Shelly-?”

"Why hello there Mr. Turner,” she smiles widely at him, but doesn’t move to greet him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you’d be here today,” he says slowly, stopping a dozen or so feet away from her. 

“No, no need to be sorry. I’m glad to see you liked the house well enough to stop by again,” she says, face oddly stuck, her features not moving quite like they should. 

“Well, I’m glad there’s no problem then,” he says haltingly, as he watches her closely. She’s not blinking.

“Where’s your lovely partner? I’d like to say hi,” she purrs, and Cas refrains from taking a step back.

“She’s just inside, I can go get her,” Cas says with as beatific of a smile as he can pull off, half turning, before he mutters, “Christo.”

Shelly’s eyes flick an opaque white, and he takes a surprised step back as her grin grows more wide, more animalistic. 

“Looks like playtime’s over then,” she says letting her hands unclasp from behind her. All it takes is a flick of her wrist before an invisible force has flung him into the side of the Lincoln. He can hear glass cracking beneath him, as white hot pain flares up his spine. The demon steps forward with a smile, the low light painting her in deep shadow.

“Well Castiel, it’s lovely to finally meet you.”


	13. Chapter 13

**(✵Cas✵)**

The force pressing him into the Lincoln increases as the demon steps closer, her right hand twisting in the air, and all Cas can do is feign calm. The others are out of sight, and there's just her in front of him.

"Is your partner late?” he chokes out, letting out a slight groan of pain as she pushes harder, the metal creaking beneath him now. She just grins at him, tutting softly as finally, she comes face to face with him. He only takes a bit of satisfaction that Shelly is a good foot shorter than him, and she has to crane her neck up.

"I see someone was prying when they shouldn’t have been. My partner is taking care of things elsewhere. We’re each exactly where we need to be,” she says, and then goes to cup his face gently for a moment before suddenly jerking it down so he’s forced to make direct eye contact with her milky white eyes. All he finds is malice in the nothing there.

"And what exactly are you here for?” he asks, keeping himself from fidgeting as her nails dig into the flesh of his chin. 

“I'd hate to give the surprise away when not everyone's come out to say hello yet. Isn't that right, Jessica dear," the demon's voice raises, and before Cas can stop himself, he's glancing towards the house. His stomach drops when he sees Jess already there, a shotgun raised futilely against the demon pinning him.

"Let him go," Jess gits out, her hands gripping the shotgun tightly, hands steady and eyes focused. But Cas can tell she's terrified. 

"Oh, but we've only just begun, I don't want to stop now," the demon says with a childish giggle, which makes Cas flinch. Jess still doesn’t lower the gun.

"Let him go or I'll shoot," Jess says, harsher now, and the demon lets out a raucous laugh this time, finally letting go of Cas's face to turn completely towards her new opponent.

"You know better than anyone, princess, that that won’t do anything to me," she says sickly sweet, taking a step forward, just daring Jess to pull the trigger.

"You think we wouldn't come prepared? I shoot this and you go straight back to Hell lady," Jess says voice resolute and for a moment even Cas believes her certainty. The demon pauses, her head tilts, and for a second Cas thinks she'll back off. 

It's only for a second though.

The shotgun goes flying from Jess’s hands as the demon calls out-

"Would the Winchester's come out now, I have so been wanting to see you for myself,” she calls out, ignoring Jess easily as her white eyes stare deep into the depths of the house. There is quiet, and Cas hopes, nearly prays that they had enough sense to run. 

"Sam, now!" 

It’s Dean's voice that calls out next, and suddenly the front door that Jess had left open slams abruptly shut, as orange gold light floods from between its seams. One of the painted wards comes to life, across its surface burning bright and vivid. As it goes, the rest of the wards around the house flare up. Cas can see them through the windows, around the sides of the house, the place lights up like the 4th of July, and both he and Jess have to turn away from the light show. The demon only watches in rapt fascination.

As the final wards activate, Dean steps out of hiding, his hands up and face determined. Next is Sam around the other side of the house, similarly with raised arms, and the demon claps her hands together in unconcealed glee.

“What an entrance boys, I’m thoroughly impressed!” she says, voice breathy and low, and the brothers' look at each other for a moment before they both stop, equal distance from Cas and her.

"Alright enough with the games, the house is warded to Hell and high water, there's no way you're getting in," Dean says harshly, and the demon hums softly, eyes roaming the glowing walls of the farmhouse.

"That is true, I'm sure I'd burn away before I made it through the threshold. For that matter, no demon could," she says slowly, but there is not an ounce of anger, not even annoyance at this roadblock. Cas can feel his stomach plummet with oncoming despair.

"Okay, so we’re on the same page then. Why don't you let our buddy there go and we can-"

"Negotiate? It’s sweet you'd think I'd trust a Winchester like that. No, see I need Cas here, he makes the next steps so much easier," she says with a dreamy sigh turning back to Cas to run a finger along his cheek, he winces away from it but she just grins wider.

"Yeah, and how do you know us?" Sam asks, drawing her attention away briefly once more.

"My associate has been meaning to make your acquaintance for some time now. Henry Winchester was the one to defeat his most fearsome Knight of Hell after all," she says loftily, and while that means nothing to Cas, both of the brothers’ eyes widen in fear. 

"You know, I think I'm getting bored of this- what do you think, Cas? Should we wrap things up here, get rid of the canon fodder?" she asks, turning away from the rest of the group to address Castiel alone, her voice low and only audible to him. He glares back at her, infusing every bit of rage he can into the single look. He thinks for a moment she almost seems cowed by it.

"If you touch a hair on anyone’s head I will not stop until you are left in the farthest pits of Hell for all eternity," he hisses back, and her smile wavers for just a fraction of a second. In the next, she's letting out a rushed giggle, too high pitched to be sincere.

"Fine then, I'll let them watch, it'll be more fun that way," she whispers back and in the next moment her hand is being struck out, bringing the three hunters to their knees in violent succession.

"See, children, I don't need to go inside the house, because what I need is in the ground. The house, of course, was just built after," she says, raising her voice to be heard by the nearly prostrate hunters at her feet, and Cas bites back a curse. It had been a stupid oversight on all their parts.

"I don't see a shovel anywhere, and you don’t seem like the type to get your hands dirty," Dean says sardonically, and immediately the demon is at his side, bending down to grip his hair and wrench his neck up. Cas struggles against the car as she holds Dean's stare, neither of them flinching away.

"You're impertinent, I'll kill you first when I'm done here," she hisses, "but I think you'll survive choking on your own blood for a bit." And before any of them can call out in protest she slams Dean's face into her knee. There’s an audible crunch as what Cas can only assume is Dean’s nose breaking, and then blood flows freely down his face. 

“Dean!” Sam’s voice wrenches something free from the freezing panic rushing through Cas, and again his struggle to break free continues in vain as he watches 

The demon lets go of Dean roughly, letting him slump down to the ground with a barely there groan of pain. Somehow though, as the demon stalks around him, Dean manages to stay conscious, as he collects his own blood in his hands, and situates himself upright, back a little less straight.

“Now, would anyone else like to interrupt? _No?_ Well then, Azazel dear, if you wouldn’t mind?” She turns back towards Castiel’s direction, as the air seems to bend and pop behind him. He jerks his head to the side to see the man from the TV, eyes still that sickly shade of yellow. In his hand, he carries a burlap sack, in which something that looks suspiciously like blood drips from the bottom.

"I hope I haven't missed anything too exciting," Azazel says with a casual smile, much less wired, than his female counterpart, as he tosses the sack at her feet.

"No, no, we were just having some fun. I hope the Nephilim was no problem?" she asks, bending down to peer into the sack curiously.

"Oh, a little at first, but I felt much better when her heart was removed," he says with a callous laugh, and Cas stares at him in rapt horror.

"You murdered a Nephilim?" he asks aghast, and since his appearance, Azazel finally turns his attention away from his partner. Cas realizes too late that those yellow eyes are much worse when staring directly at him.

"Oh, not just that, I snuck in a Cherub as well. It's all part of the plan, bucko, I see Lilith here really didn't get into details. Why don't we cut the kids some slack and let them in on the secret?" he asks, turning his faux concern on his partner, Lilith, a name that sends terrified shivers down Cas's spine. She looks around at the other silent hunters, tapping her bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment, before letting out a petulant sigh.

"We do have time to spare, sunset is still nearly a half hour away," she says, and Azazel smiles warmly at her. Dean's eyes, watery and red, turn to Cas suddenly, and Cas for the life of him cannot understand what is trying to be communicated to him, as Azazel takes in a breath to begin.

"Now, what, little hunters, do you think is underneath this house?" he asks, sounding as encouraging as a preschool teacher, as he walks up and down the row of Dean, Jess and Sam. 

"It's an angelic miracle," Sam spits out venomously, and Azazel stops, looking down curiously at the younger Winchester brother.

"A for effort there, Sammy, but not quite," he says and then turns away to keep up his slow languid pacing.

"It is angelic, very much so. A rarity to find it in a condition like this- isn't it Lily?" Azazel turns to her with a charming grin, but Cas can see her mouth tip down into a momentary grimace.

"Yes, quite rare," she says icily, but if Azazel notices he doesn't react to her mood change.

"Now the things we have collected here, a cupids bow, easy steal, Cherub are just about the cutest of the angels out there- a Nephilim heart, tricky, one of a kind, but very easy to trace and, finally here- _Angel's grace_ ," Azazel stops and looks at the still glowing house enraptured by it. No one breaths, no one makes a sound.

"I think you've confused them," Lilith says, her demeanor leaning back into a horrifying cheer as she comes to stand by her partner.

"Oh dear, it seems I have. Alright, here's your extra credit question. What do you think all those things have in common- besides the obvious, of course?" Azazel asks as those Xanthos eyes scan the tense faces of the hunters before him.

"They're ingredients- for a spell," Jess finally bites out, her voice low and menacing, and Azazel claps happily at her.

"Bingo! Now, I don't expect any of you to know what the spell’s for, but I’ll let Lilith explain that,” Azazel says teasingly, and gestures to his side where Lilith stands with her hands clasped.

"Well, that one is quite the story. Where should I begin?" she asks, and Azael thinks about it for a moment, his smile twisting into something far more chilling.

"I think the apocalypse works nicely," he says, and Lilith's eyes, white as they are, gleam in delight.

"The apocalypse, of course. What a showstopper it was going to be," she sighs dreamily, her eyes finally skirting back to Cas. "Lucifer risen from the cage, mass exodus from Hell, worldly destruction, the fight to end all fights."

"Seems like something went wrong then," Cas says, tightly, "the world looks pretty intact to me."

Lilith's smile falls, and her hands unclasp to land in clenched fists at her sides.

"Yes, you could say there was something of a snag. Upstairs reneged on their end of the bargain. It's hard to start the end of the world when not everyone's a team player," she says bitterly, and Cas has to stop himself from laughing at the absurdity of it. 

“And the snag?” he prompts, and Lilith levels him with a searing look.

“There was a coup in Heaven that ended nearly forty some years ago. A lowly renegade angel up and decided that the grand fight between Our Lord Lucifer and his brother Michael wasn’t _fair_ to the poor humans on Earth,” Lilith’s face contorts into a horrible pout as she says this, eyes still boring into Cas’s. 

“In a strange, baffling turn of events this seraph, turned the tides in Heaven, Michael _conceded_ , the angelic coward,” Lillith spits, taking a few menacing steps back in Cas’s direction. “He forbid further action to be taken towards the culmination of the grand fight. He locked Heaven up, and any demon worth their salt who has tried to break seals since then has been destroyed.”

“And what makes you any different?” Cas asks cautiously, and watches as Lilith’s smile turns sharp with satisfaction.

“That is exactly where our story leads us. A Cupid's bow, a Nephilim's heart, and the Grace of an Angel; Ingredients for removing all of Heaven’s occupants in one fell swoop,” she says gayly, one arm swung out to showcase the sky above, the sun worryingly low on the horizon now. 

“Now, boys and girls, what really puts the icing on the cake for me; Do you know _where_ the Angel who started it all is today?” Lilith asks sweetly, looking between the hunters, still stuck, still terrified, Dean’s face still dripping blood. There is a resounding silence from them all, as Lilith’s features seem to sharpen and twist as the light begins to fade. 

“Why, he’s right here- Aren’t you Castiel?” 

The air in Cas’s throat thickens, and for a second it seems almost impossible to breathe. Lilith sensing this lets loose a howl of laughter, that even Azazel joins in on, as the sun touches the horizon behind them. Their shadows stretch and elongate in horrible, monstrous ways and Cas can not breathe.

“I’m not- I’m _human_ ,” he gasps out, and Lilith’s head snaps back laughter dying as she steps closer till they're nearly nose to nose.

“Oh how very true that is, emotional, weak, and malleable. You’re as human as they come. But who’s Grace do you think is under the house?” Lilith sneers, and across the yard Jess lets out a sort of gasp, closing her mouth quickly at the interruption. 

"Surprising isn’t it Jessica, big brother Castiel, an Angel of the Lord. He gave it all up, the power and the prestige of winning a celestial war to grovel among the humans. How has playing house been Cas, has it been as wonderful as you'd hoped?" she asks, running a hand over the top of his head, in a mockery of a mother soothing a distressed child.

"Fuck you," Cas spits out, and she laughs softly, as finally, the sun sets. The only light now is being cast by the house, its eerie golden luminescence covering the demon's faces in a Hellish glow. 

"Azazel if you would be a dear, the rest of my spell casting equipment is in the back seat of my car. Get it for me?" Lilith asks sweetly, not taking her eyes off Cas.

"Of course," he says easily, grinning as he walks past the rest of the hunters.

“Did you know Castiel, this isn’t really the first time I’ve met you. I was very fond of your parents, when I tore their throats out I almost felt a little bad,” she says, delight clear in her voice as she leans in, breath hot on his face. Sulphuric and burning.

“You’re lying, demons lie,” he seethes, and Lilith just shakes her head, the perfect picture of pity.

“No, I’m not. I saw the light die in their eyes, and of course, poor Stephen Moore didn’t mean for it to end that way but- not all traps are set well,” she says loud enough for the other hunters to hear, and Jessica flinches as if she were slapped.

“What-?” she chokes out, voice thick with worry and fear and Lilith hushes her softly as Azazel finally comes back with his arms full. A pewter bowl, a mortar and pestle, a long silver dagger.

“He didn’t know exactly what Castiel was, but he had suspicions. A miracle baby, the son of a small town pastor, all those omens before the birth. It would have been very hard to miss, even for such a small time hunter. Moore wanted me, I wanted you, the pieces just fit,” she says, nearly squealing this last part in joy.

“He couldn’t have- Cas he couldn’t have-” Jess says shaking her head vehemently, and Lilith tuts back, rocking on the balls of her borrowed feet in morbid excitement. 

“Oh but he did! He did! He set it all up nicely, waited until I was already in the house, choking the life out of your father, and still he waited just to make sure I was distracted. Of course by then I’d already made quite the mess of your mother’s pretty face. The exorcism he recited did save you though,” Lilith says brightly, tapping Cas’s nose with a childish grin, and he stares back at her blankly, unseeing, unfeeling. Jess on the other hand, is gasping for breath as she sways forward into her hands as tears stream down her face.

“I can only assume his guilty conscience is what kept you along for the ride after.”

“I think the meats been tenderized enough Lilith, time to get the show on the road,” Azazel says almost lazily, and Lilith lets out a regretful sigh as Jess sobs ring out through the air. Cas can’t- he can’t comprehend. He’s going to die, and so will his sister in all but blood, his friends- _Dean_. And he just can’t.

An altar has been set at the foot of the hunters, the pewter bowl, on top of a sigil of some kind. Suddenly, before Cas can get his bearings, the pressure holding him to the Lincoln releases and he falls forward, legs weak with disuse. Lilith grabs him by the scruff of his neck dragging him up just enough that he's easier to hold. She doesn't let him stand, instead carrying his weight across the yard easily, even as he struggles and digs his heels into the ground. She dumps him at her feet, in front of Jess and Dean and Sam, and she grins as she places her heeled foot on his chest and pushes down. He doesn't scream right away, but when he feels a rib crack he can’t help it.

The rest of the hunters yell out in protest, stuck watching as Lilith has her fun. Finally she lifts her foot, and lands a kick to the soft part of his stomach, incapacitating him enough to her liking.

"The dagger, Azazel," she says, holding out her hand, and Azazel sets it in her palm with an easy grin.

She kneels next to him, slowly, and carefully, with more considering appreciation than he thought possible for her. She lifts his hand, palm up and holds it over the bowl. The dagger slices quick, and Cas, already aching everywhere else can only hiss as the blood drips down, flowing easily from his palm.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?” she asks sweetly patting his cheek, as she lets go of his hand. She stands then, and stretches her hands out over the bowl, mouth twisting as she begins to mutter something far older than Latin.

 _Sumerian._ His brain supplies suddenly, although from all his experience in the world he doesn’t think he's ever encountered the language before. 

As his breathing becomes more difficult, Lilith's chanting grows louder still, and the wards on the house flicker furiously. The ground beneath them begins to shake, as his vision begins to blacken.

Someone is calling his name over it all, over the rolling ground, and shrieking incantation, someone is calling his name.

_castiel Castiel CASTIEL_

Something erupts from the ground then, cracking the front porch down the middle, shattering every window in the house outward. The light the wards had previously been displaying are shrouded by a blast of blue, white lights. 

Tendrils of power and energy circling above their heads like their own mini galaxy- and it’s then that Cas knows it wasn't anyone calling his name.

It was this.

Grace.

_His Grace._

And as Lilith gives a rictus grin at her accomplishment, and Azazel watches in appreciative silence, Castiel knows these demons do not know what they’ve unleashed.

The hunters have turned away, unable to look upon its brilliance, but Castiel, prone on his back, looks up and up at it as it hovers above them. 

And he calls it.

His grace.

And it answers.

The last thing he remembers is the calming hush of the wind through the trees. And then nothing.

**⛥⛧⛥**

**(✵Dean✵)**

Dean doesn't even see it happen. One second he feels as if his retinas are being burned permanently, cowering on the ground with his palms over his eyes and then the chaos and destruction he assumed was about to take place never came.

The light went out, the darkness of the evening settled and it was only as Lilith let an ear splitting shriek that he allowed himself to look back up from his protective huddle.

His vision is still spotty and blurred but it's Cas- _Castiel_ , standing and seemingly more whole. His back is to them, Jess and Sam are raising their own heads in dazed bewilderment, as he stalks towards the fallen Lilith.

Since this horrible evening began, Dean was certain he was going to die, that they were all going to die having failed their one mission. But now-

"How did you- it shouldn't be possible!" Lilith howls, her face screwed up in fear and confusion, but Castiel does not falter as he stalks her, hand outstretched, as she tries to scuttle backward, like a small, easily squishable bug. 

Dean hadn't believed it- _couldn't_ have believed it, that the man he'd know this past week could have been an Angel at any time. Grumpy, and sardonic, as human as they come as Lilith had said. But here, _now_ , Dean can come to no other conclusion, as Castiel brings his hand down on Lilith's head. This is an Angel pure and simple. Powerful, and mighty, and real.

Lilith’s eyes and mouth erupt with that same bright light, and then her body collapses, eyes burnt from their sockets. Dean can only stare as Castiel's eyes turn on him, an unreal shade of blue, expression impassable and all knowing. Something moves behind him through the dark and Dean quickly shouts-

"Look out!" 

Azazel jumps him from behind, a long silver blade in hand, but Castiel ducks as the blade flies over his head, and then he brings his leg out to undercut the other demon. Azazel falls fast, his blade clattering from his hand as Castiel stands tall once more. He scoops the blade from the ground, twirling it with expert precision, and before the demon can even let out a howl of displeasure, the blade is being lodged in his throat. The demon's eyes flicker orange, his skull clear through translucent glowing flesh. And then he is no more, another corpse.

Castiel stands and it’s then Dean realizes he is no longer frozen to the ground.

He tries to stand, and fails, reeling from the injuries Lilith had inflicted, and woozy from the blood loss.

"Cas-?" Jess's voice is soft and broken, as she tries to stand herself, stance uncertain, legs shaking, but Castiel does not look to her yet, his gaze intent upon Dean.

Castiel steps closer to Dean's kneeling form, face bloody and broken, and he tenderly cups his cheek.

Warmth rushes through Dean, like nothing he's ever felt before. The physical manifestation of affection and _love_ pumped through his skin. In the next moment, Dean is distantly aware of his nose knitting itself back together, of his split lip and gums repairing themselves, but all he can focus on is Castiel’s eyes, as they look down upon him with something akin to adoration.

Slowly the light and warmth fades away, and Cas's hand leaves his face. He takes a step back and for the first time in this new state he frowns. The blue light in his eyes flickers, and Dean stands feeling rejuvenated and new, quickly enough to catch him as he staggers backward. 

Jess is at their side quickly, as Cas's skin glows with overflowing Grace.

"What's going on? What’s happening to him?” she asks shakily as they lower him to the ground, and all Dean can do is shake his head, just as unsure. He turns to Sam, who looks haggard but okay, standing above them with worry and apprehension. 

Jess and Dean hold Cas close until finally the light fades away completely, and Cas's eyes flutter shut. Dean shifts him so his head is laying across his lap, giving Jess a better angle to check his pulse.

"I can't feel anything, shit, I can't-" she cups his face between both hands, her eyes welling with new tears and Dean feels useless. Worse than useless. 

Castiel had saved them, and now he was going to die, because Dean didn't know shit about Angels.

Angels. Dean blinks down at Cas, as the thought hits him full force. 

"Gabe," he whispers aloud, and Jess looks up at him, her tear streaked face scrunched in confusion.

"What?"

"Gabe," Dean says again more vehemently before he shouts full force up at the sky.

"Gabriel, Castiel needs you!"

At first there is nothing, just Sam and Jess's baffled and mournful looks, as Dean can feel his heart beating out of control, into full blown panic until.

"Shoulda know the little pipsqueak was lying to me."

They all turn to see through the dim evening light a casually dressed man on the outskirts of the lawn. He's got a sucker in hand as he lazily walks up to their group. Dean can barely believe it.

"You're the Archangel-“

"Gabriel yeah, yeah, and you were supposed to be the righteous man- we're all important people," Gabe says, but his eyes are stuck on Castiel's lifeless form. Dean lets the latter half of that statement pass with mild confusion, and instead brings his focus back to Cas.

"You have to help him. We don’t know how to help him," Dean pleads, and Gabriel shrugs his shoulders, popping his sucker into his mouth.

"I'm not even supposed to be down here kid, if I used miracle juice like that-"

"He's your brother isn't he?" Dean snaps, and Gabe's eyes harden.

"Yeah, and I’ve got a million of em' what's it to ya?" Gabe snaps back, and Dean tries to keep himself calm as Jess and Sam watch in bewildered silence.

“What’s wrong with him?” Dean tries again, Cas’s head cradled close to his chest as Gabriel looks down on them, _pitying_. It makes Dean’s blood boil.

“He should have never been reconnected with his grace, that’s for one- he’s not an Angel anymore, that much power and knowledge has practically fried his brain,” Gabe says bitingly.

“But all angels use human vessels, how is this not different?” he snaps, and Gabriel's gaze immediately sharpens.

“It’s very much different! We put up boundaries, so the human soul never actually touches our grace. What you put in him was an unrestrained atom bomb!”

“So what, there’s nothing you can do?” Dean asks, trying to keep the raw panic from his voice, as Cas’s skin begins to cool beneath his touch.

“You can’t leave him like this,” Jess yells from beside Cas, looking just as, if not more, righteous than an actual Angel of the Lord.

Gabriel scowls back at both of them, and then down at Cas’s prone form, in Dean’s lap.

“I was supposed to be out after this, we were both supposed to be out,” Gabe bites out, his arms crossed in obvious annoyance, and then “Castiel, you owe me big time asshole.”

Gabriel doesn’t even touch him but still, Dean feels those same wavery feelings of warmth in the air, and suddenly Cas is gasping back to life in his lap. He blinks owlishly up at them all, eyes back to their normal human blue, and Dean nearly cries with relief. Jess is already, sniffling as she lunges forward to wrap her arms around him. He hugs back briefly, stunned. 

“I’m okay,” he says unevenly, even as Dean has to put a steadying hand on his back to keep him sitting upright. 

“You’re a moron,” Jess doesn’t so much as whisper as she does brokenly sob, and Cas pats her back stiffly, as Dean watches on awkwardly. 

“I’d have to agree.”

They all turn to look up at Gabe at the same time, and he looks far from impressed. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you break your promise to me," Cas says, voice rough and unsteady, and Dean raises his eyebrow at the exchange. Gabe waves it off easily enough, with a shrug.

"I knew something would happen eventually. Always was like that with you," Gabe says shortly, and Cas nods solemnly at him, a small crease between his eyebrows forming.

"I don’t remember much- will I-?"

"No, you wouldn’t be able to handle it. Take it as a blessing Cassie, not much up there worth remembering. You’ve got good people down here who deserve to take up that space," Gabe says, and for once the joking tone seems to have left his voice. Cas seems about to argue, but then shakes his head with a sigh.

"Thank you, all the same," he says, and Gabe nods once with a smile.

"Well, here’s to not seeing you around. Have a good life Castiel," Gabe says, his easy grin slipping back into his face, and then he's gone, only leaving behind the impressions of his footprints in the grass.

Cas leans back then with a sigh, which means directly into Dean’s lap. When Cas notices this, he blinks up at Dean for a moment before saying.

"I think I’d like to take you up on that offer to join the Men of Letters.”

“You- _what?_ ” Dean asks, surprise and joy making his mouth do an awkward mixture of a smile and gasp. Cas doesn’t seem fazed by this and simply repeats.

“I want to join the Men of Letters with you.”

“Cas are you sure, you’ve kind of just been through something and-”

“Jess would you mind, for a moment?” Cas turns away from him abruptly, and Dean looks up in shock, having half forgotten Jess was even there. She looks between the two of them, something dawning on her as she quickly wipes her face of tears.

“No, nope- I’ll just go- _Sam_ ,” she stands quickly to drag his brother a couple of yards away, as Dean watches her in confusion, and then looks back down at Cas bewildered.

“Cas-?” He doesn’t have long to question this though as Cas’s hand slips behind his neck and pulls him into a kiss. For a moment all he can do is let it happen, and then his brain catches up with his body in one heady, exhilarating swoop, and he kisses back. 

Eventually one of them has to pull away, at the very least to breathe, but even still the warmth pooling in Dean’s chest is electrifying as he looks down on Cas.

“ _Oh_ ,” Dean barely says the word so much as sighs it, and Cas looks up at him with a fond, self satisfied smile.

“I’d like, very much, to join the Men of Letters with you,” Cas says, his cheeks dusted pink, and lips kiss swollen and Dean nods his head with a vehement _'yes’_.

“Alright, I think we can swing that, Mr. Renegade Angel,” Dean replies breathily, as a smile he won’t be able to shake for hours, slips onto his face.

“Good,” Cas replies, and they lean into each other once more.


	14. Epilogue

**(✵Dean✵)**

When Dean had turned down his grandfather's offer, he's not sure who was more surprised. His grandfather or himself. After the defeat of both Lilith and Azazel, two high ranking demons the Men of Letters had been tracking for decades now, Dean had some leverage to negotiate. He would work under his mother, they would change their policies regarding hunter interaction, and someone else would be voted into the Chapter Head position. 

His grandfather, never the warmest of people, begrudgingly agreed, conceding nepotism was probably something to veer away from anyway.

Linda Tran was elected within their first month back at the bunker, a near unanimous victory, and Dean couldn’t have been more relieved. Because working side by side with his mother was more rewarding than he’d thought possible.

She had of course been royally pissed when she’d discovered the sheer breadth of their little road trip and had barely spoken to either of her sons for a full week. She'd thawed quicker though with the new presence of Cas and Jess. Even Dean is surprised about how quickly they'd been able to acclimate to bunker life. His mother, always a good eye when it came to skilled hunters, took to them immediately. Dean would have almost felt a little bad about how soon she’d dumped them into MoL training, but neither of them seemed to mind the physical or mental challenges presented there.

Charlie doesn't seem to forgive him in the most childish way possible, for the large gaps in his story he'd managed to leave out. She doesn’t stop speaking to him, but she does manage to needle him about it all any chance she gets. She latches on to Jess immediately and is only slightly disappointed to find Sam and her have already hit it off. This doesn't deter her from trying to coerce Jess into working the archives.

And of course, there was the whole new aspect of having someone like Cas around. It had been three months and still every time they were alone with each other (rare in such close quarters with the rest of MoL) Dean felt like he was being pumped full of grace all over again. There are bumps, of course, Cas is still an annoying grump most of the time, only coaxed out of his shell by strong coffee and increasingly stupid jokes. And Dean is still sometimes an asshole, because of the stresses of reorganizing a whole chapter of the MoL or just dealing with his insane family, but Cas never lets the bullshit slide, and it’s easy then for Dean to snap himself out of whatever funk he's fallen into.

And the thing is, Dean doesn't think he’s ever been happier. The things that he thought he was missing, the pieces of the puzzle he wasn’t sure where to place, it's like they’d all clicked suddenly. It’s not perfect by any means, it’s still life, it’s still their crazy messed up world of demons and angels and monsters under beds. But they'd stopped the apocalypse, they'd saved the world, and they'd made it out the other side still intact.

He treasures the moments where he gets stress headaches from hours of data collecting, and tedious phone calls with out of state hunters. When Cas purposefully kisses him with morning breath and steals the last good donut from the box. When his mother refuses his idea to ask for more grenade launcher funding or decidedly kicks his ass in a sparring match. Or when Sam teases him relentlessly about the Angel on his shoulder, even with the sickeningly sweet relationship of his own. Or when Charlie and Cas gang up on him over which Star Wars movie is the best (It’s Return of the Jedi and no he will not back down from that). And even when things take a decidedly bad turn as they always do, it’s okay because it’s not okay. Because he has Cas there to lean against and his mother to confide in and his brother to pretend like it’s all okay, and his family to know that it will be in the end.

The good, the bad, the boring, they’re all his to keep, and he wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
